Calm Waters
by fuzzydream
Summary: John fights depression and tries to get his life back on track. Anna's past still torments her and she's forced to take some time away from work to move on. They both end up in a place called Calm Waters. Will they be able to help each other and cure themselves? Modern AU. Rating will change in a few chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: **I was sure I was done with modern settings, but this idea happened and I couldn't let go of it. It's certainly different territory for me - more angsty and a lot darker. I know many of you don't enjoy modern AUs but I'll be annoying and ask you to give it a go. I'd absolutely love any feedback on this, as it is my first time writing an angsty WIP. Special thanks to my friend Terrie who edited it and actually came up with the idea for this story. :) Thanks so much for reading!

**Disclaimer**: Don't own Downton Abbey.

* * *

**Chapter One**

The revolver felt heavy in his hands. His fingers traced the pattern of the cylinder. It was tempting. What would it be like, if he pulled the trigger? Would it be fast? Would it hurt? What would it be like for those who stayed?

He thought of everyone he knew, important people to him. He thought of his son. Of his ex-wife. Of his parents, long dead now. Of friends. Of Anna.

She wouldn't understand, he thought with a bittersweet smile. She'd never understand. The revolver felt even heavier in his hand. It glistened in the pale moonlight. He looked up at the sky. The storm that had graced them in the previous day seemed long gone now. He put the cylinder back in the gun, and shifted his gaze to it. It would have been quite simple, he figured. A simple way to end it all. Could he do it?

He raised the revolver to his head, touching his temple. It would be fast, he was sure it would. Could he do it?

No, he couldn't.

In the back of his mind, he heard a scream.

He pulled the trigger.

* * *

_Three months earlier_

The air was a bit chilly and the sun was setting in the distance. He had to admit: this was a beautiful place. He passed by some small buildings to his right; there weren't many people around. It was quiet too. There was a nice breeze outside. Maybe this place would be the cure to his troubles, after all. He passed by a big lake, driving slowly and admiring the view. There were some people on the docks, mostly couples. He kept one hand at the wheel and put his elbow on the side of the car, watching everything and feeling slightly better. He wasn't here on vacation. He was here to work.

After months of no new material to send to his publisher, his editor and friend, Max Russell, had been benevolent and offered him a place to try and finish his book. A quiet place, he had said. Calm Waters was its name. John figured it would be nice to change the scenario a little. He sure wasn't writing much in his own house; in fact, it had been weeks since he wrote one full sentence for his book. He needed to finish it. Its deadline was approaching and he wasn't even halfway into it. If he lost the deadline, he'd lose his contract. He shook his head. He had lost enough already.

He turned to the left into a narrow road, and kept driving until in the middle of many trees, he saw stone walls and a wooden gate; a big house could be seen behind it, a huge stone stairwell stealing all the attention to the house. This must be Calm Waters.

He was feeling somewhat hopeful today; he needed to finish the book in a matter of few months, and this time was his last chance. He couldn't risk losing his contract, but he simply couldn't write in his own place, in London; the house held too many memories and once he had realised he couldn't write there, he had resorted to cafés and libraries, with no such luck. His thoughts weren't focused on the book anymore, as it had once been. He needed to prove to them – and to himself – he could do this.

He kept driving, passing by the great house, remembering Max's directions, and not ten minutes later found the cottage. Max had told him the house was in the family for years, but no one seemed to use it much nowadays, and he had even been thinking of selling. John took in the appearance of the cottage. Well-maintained, lots of vegetation around and he knew the lake was nearby. He got out of the car and pushed the small gate open to the property of the cottage. He could see the main house in the distance, right ahead of him. Walking around the house, he even smiled when he turned a corner and saw a small backyard, with a table and two chairs, the wild flowers colouring the place as it was a nice summer day. The lake could be seen, and he was sure the trail by the end of the property would lead straight there.

Max had mentioned the place would give him inspiration, and he agreed some time away from the city would do him good.

He walked back to the car, taking his bags out of the truck and walking towards the door; opening it with the key Max had gave him, he looked around briefly. Max had mentioned it was a small, simple place, but to John it seemed perfect. The decoration was perhaps a little old-fashioned, but it gave him a good feeling. It was so different from home that he felt a little better already. There was just one bedroom, one bathroom, a small living room with a nice fireplace and the kitchen. He could see the lake from the bedroom's window. This was perfect.

* * *

_A month later_

Anna knocked briefly on the door, opening it slowly when she heard a voice telling her to come in. She smiled as she entered the big room; it was a big, nicely-decorated office, and its owner smiled brightly upon her arrival. It wasn't a pretty day in London; the rain was pouring heavily outside, and Anna supposed the weather was matching her mood. She felt tired – drained, even – and she wished she had stayed home, as she normally did nowadays; she more often than not worked from home, but upon a request for a meeting, she had agreed on going to the company today. Walking towards her boss' desk with a stack of papers in hand, Anna jumped straight to business.

"I finished Kim Masterson's book this morning," she told him, handing him the papers and sitting down on one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk, "Good book. Can't see it as a best-seller, but it is a good book."

"Would you read it again?"

Anna pursed her lips, "No, because I don't have much time. But if I did… No, I probably wouldn't. But it is a nice book. I've sent my analysis over to you this morning."

"I know. I didn't call you here because of the book, Anna," his voice was stern, and Anna looked down to her lap, occupied with fidgeting her fingers. "Your aunt and I are worried about you."

Anna sighed. She wasn't surprised at this; Uncle Max always knew when to pick conversations she didn't want to have while at work, because then she wouldn't be able to escape. She almost rolled her eyes when he spoke, but she refrained from doing so. She should have known; both her aunt and uncle had been trying to get her into these talks for the past few weeks. She knew they were just concerned about her; instead, she took a deep breath and smiled.

"I'm fine, Uncle Max," she tried her best to look relaxed, but deep down she knew her fake smile wasn't reaching her eyes. "Don't worry about me. I don't."

Uncle Max smiled at her, but it wasn't comforting to Anna. He didn't believe her. His smile was sad. It didn't feel right.

"That's just it, Anna," he said softly, "You don't worry about yourself, but we do. We worry about you. All you do is work. Go out with your friends, meet new people. Have fun. Live life."

Anna rolled her eyes, "I like my life the way it is, Uncle Max."

"Do you, really?" he hesitated, "It's been almost two years, Anna."

At this, Anna averted his eyes and looked down at her lap. Her hands were fidgeting more nervously than before now. She wished she had stayed home today. Had she known this was the topic of the so called meeting, she wouldn't have even considered coming to the company.

Her uncle sighed loudly, tiredly, but Anna remained silent.

"I was talking to your aunt and we think you should take some time away," he said, his voice stronger than before, "You probably have about five months worth of vacation that you haven't used, you could have that trip you had been planning some time ago…"

"I decline the offer, but thank you," Anna cut him off, standing up. "I don't want to stop working, and I'm not in the mood for traveling."

"Sit down, Anna. This conversation isn't over yet."

His tone was firm, and Anna slowly sat down again, a pout in her lips. This definitely wasn't going like she had thought it would.

"It's just… I appreciate the offer, I really do," she started, "It just doesn't seem very tempting. To go on a trip by myself."

Uncle Max smiled.

"Fine. Don't go on that trip. But take some time off. It doesn't need to be those five months," he offered, "Maybe one or two?"

Anna pursed her lips. She had a feeling she wouldn't have much of a choice.

"I'm not going to be able to refuse it, am I?" at that, Uncle Max shook his head, "Fine. One month. That's it," she warned him, then let out a tired sigh.

"It'll do you some good, Anna. You could go to that place up in the north, that hotel spa you and your aunt used to go together," he told her with a pleasant smile, grateful that she had accepted his offer, "Just have a relaxing time. It'll do you some good."

Anna pursed her lips, another idea on her mind. "No, I was actually thinking about the lake. It's been years since I've been to Calm Waters."

Uncle Max gave her a pointed look, "Anna, what would you do there? Summer is just over. There's nothing to do there now. And you do know we're trying to sell the house. We barely even visit the place nowadays."

Anna arched her eyebrows, "And you know I'm against it. You said you want me to enjoy the free time and relax. I can relax in Calm Waters. And don't worry about the house, I'll stay in the cottage. You wouldn't even have to warn Mrs. Abbott that I'm going over."

"Stay in the house, it's no problem," her uncle promptly said, "I have one of our writers staying at the cottage. He's been dealing with writer's block and I lent him the place for a few months. But he keeps himself to himself, he won't be a bother."

"Oh, that's just what I need. To share the propriety with a writer," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "Which one? Do I know him?"

"John Bates. You've approved some of his books," he added, "I know you used to like his writing, but he hasn't written anything in years."

Anna smiled, thinking about his books. Her uncle was right; she was a fan of his work. She had never met him, though; she doubted he'd want to see her there anyway, especially if he was dealing with writer's block. The last thing he needed was one more person urging him to write.

"But he's a good man. A good friend," her uncle continued, "You won't bother each other, I'm sure. Well, you could call on him and ask about the book. He hasn't returned my calls," he frowned, "But no work for you. I want you to have a nice time there and you can stay more than a month if you want to. You have my total permission."

Anna stood up and smirked, "You make it sound as if I have a choice."

He smiled, "You can go right away. We'll cover for you. I don't want to hear from you for a month."

"Alright, alright," Anna said, "I'll have a little talk with Aunt Claire about it. It's not fair to be forced to take some time off. This was probably her idea."

Uncle Max grinned, "You know it was."

Exchanging a ghost of a smile with him, Anna turned to leave with a sigh; despite everything, she felt tired. Maybe some time off would do her some good, after all. And she had always loved spending time by the lake. She could remember happy summers there, with her aunt and uncle and her cousin, Ryan, who also worked at the publishing house; they had been certain of their decision to put the propriety on sale, but Anna had been against it from the start. Maybe this would be her final stay at the house; she might as well make use of it.

It might not be a bad idea, after all. It would make her family glad to see her taking some time off, and she could enjoy the place by herself. In a month she'd come back and everything would remain the same.

That sounded like a good plan.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Thanks so much for all the response on the first chapter! That was really just an introduction so the story really starts now. I'd love to know what are your thoughts on this one. Thanks so much for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Two_

Anna climbed out of the car and opened the trunk to get her suitcases. It was getting dark and she looked up at the house in front of her, taking a deep breath. She felt relaxed already. The sky was clear; she supposed she could take the boat and go around the lake tomorrow. It wasn't as if there was a lot to do around here; summer was long gone and so were the tourists. The village was virtually empty now, only the locals were around. The lake was probably empty too, which was nice.

Adjusting her bag against her shoulder, she narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. She had missed this place more than she thought. Both her hands reached for the handles on her suitcases and she walked towards the big front door. Opening them with a click, she stepped into the red carpeted reception area; the house was very much the same since she had been here the last time. She heard the insistent beep of the alarm going off, and quickly got the code number right. Flicking the lights on, she closed the door behind her. Judging by the looks of it, the house was being well-maintained, even if her family rarely used it now. She'd go and speak to Mr. and Mrs. Abbott, who lived by the property and served as gardener and housekeeper, tomorrow, to let them know she was around. She suspected her uncle had already told them, but either way Anna would like to have a word.

She decided to take her things upstairs first. Climbing up the big stairwell, Anna took in the familiar halls and paintings on the wall before reaching her destination. Opening the door to the main suite, she smiled. The fireplace was working and everything was in its place. Uncle Max had definitely told Mrs. Abbott she'd come.

A soft smile played on her features as Anna left her suitcases on the floor and opened the huge French windows that led to the balcony. She could see the surrounding neighbourhood and some lights from the village centre; the lake too, so nearby, and Anna was sure she had made the right choice at coming here. Taking a deep breath, her eyes, so used to the current view, chose to focus on the cottage in the distance. She could see light coming from one of its windows – the living room, if she wasn't mistaken. As much as she liked to be here, the house was too big for just one person. She'd have been much more at ease in the cottage. She supposed she'd meet its current occupant one of these days.

Shrugging these thoughts away, Anna turned to the bedroom, deciding it was time to get dinner started. Normally, at home, she'd just order some pizza or have a sandwich; depending on the day, she wouldn't even have the appetite for dinner. But today, here, she felt like changing; that was why she had come all the way over to Calm Waters, after all. She frowned as she walked downstairs again. She doubted they had any food over.

Reaching the bright kitchen, she rummaged through the cabinets, not surprised to see most of them empty. Granted, the liquor cabinet still contained a large wine collection and a few whisky bottles. Anna shook her head and looked at the clock. It wasn't very late. She could go to the village for a couple of minutes and buy some supplies. She'd need them sooner rather than later.

Making up her mind, Anna left the house.

* * *

John closed down his laptop, frustrated. He simply couldn't write. No words were written, no plot was made, and there he was, another night with no progress. He stood up with a tired sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. Looking around, he sighed; he had thought this place would ease his mind away from its usual torments, but he was apparently mistaken. Apart from a few paragraphs written in his first week here, he had nothing. Absolutely nothing.

He picked his glass from the desk and drank the remaining whisky down, barely registering its taste. Hell, sober or drunk, it wouldn't matter. He never wrote a thing anyway. One day closer to the deadline, and he still had virtually nothing.

Taking a deep breath, he decided to step outside to get some air. It was incredibly hot inside, though he vaguely pondered that the alcohol made it so for him. There was a nice breeze outside, in the backyard, and he inhaled deeply, feeling a bit calmer now. Grabbing a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he took one out, lit it and took a slow, long drag. John closed his eyes, trying to relax a little. It wasn't very late. He wasn't feeling sleepy. He might be able to write something tonight.

He opened his eyes again, and walked aimlessly around the small backyard. There were two fireflies a few feet away from him. It had been a while since he saw one of those; he could hardly look for them in London. Taking another drag from his cigarette, something caught his eye. He looked at the main house in the distance. Some lights were on; he had never seen those before. The house had been empty ever since he got here, three weeks ago. John frowned. That wasn't normal. Max said he and the family hadn't visited in years.

He looked around and sighed tiredly. He needed to check and see if everything was alright. Could be the caretaker, or the gardener, he supposed; he knew the elderly couple lived around the property. But still, at such an hour, he doubted it. Maybe someone broke into the house. Either way, he'd need to check.

He took one more drag from the cigarette before walking over to the small table at the centre of the yard, where he sometimes tried to write; he ignored the amount of cigarettes in the ashtray, and left his latest one there.

He walked down the stone steps out of the cottage's backyard and into the trail that, he supposed, would lead to the main house. In his hurried steps, it didn't take him five minutes to be in front of the house. John looked around briefly, noticing more lights were on; he hadn't been this close to the house, and he wasn't sure where the front door was. He saw no car parked in the open garage and after a quick inspection around, started walking up a ramp, instead of climbing up the big stairwell; there was an Astra parked right by front door. He frowned; as far as he knew the Abbotts didn't own an Astra. Walking towards the door, John wasn't surprised to find it locked. He looked through the glass and into the room; empty. It was dark too, apart from a faint light coming from a lamp in the corner of the room. He looked around, taking in the big terrace and seeing plenty of French windows. One of them had to be unlocked.

He had been mistaken; they were all locked. Still, something wasn't right. Unless someone from Max's family was around for a visit. No, Max's wife wouldn't be here by herself, and John knew Ryan's, Max's son, car. Had to be someone else. He could go to the cottage and leave things as they were. But what if it wasn't a family member? No, he needed to check.

He noticed the lights were out in the left of the house, so he went for the French windows to the right; he descended the three steps that led to them and chose the further one. It was all dark inside. Taking out his jacket, he folded it in his hand, before punching the window with as much care as he could. He'd have to apologise to Max later.

Turning the key from inside, he opened the door carefully, entering the house. Adjusting his eyes to the new darkness, he found himself by the pool. Now he only had to find where these people were.

Spotting a small staircase on the far end of the room, he tried his best to be quiet, but his steps were incredibly noisy. Opening another set of double doors, he entered the reception, trying to locate himself within the house. Everything else seemed dark, apart from the lamp, and he could see some lighting coming from upstairs. He briefly wondered how many sets of stairs could be found in the house as he walked towards it; Max certainly owned a gem by the lake.

The second floor was much more well-lit than the first one. As he stepped into the large living room, he noticed yet another staircase, but the mezzanine upstairs seemed dark and empty. He heard a door opening somewhere within the house, and noticed the French doors were open in this room.

* * *

Anna had been cooking when she heard the distinct crack coming somewhere from downstairs, and she froze in her spot; she was fairly certain she had closed everything when she came back from the village. Wiping her hands distractedly, she opened the kitchen door and listened. Nothing.

Just when she had convinced herself it must have been something from her imagination, she heard a door opening downstairs. There was someone in the house.

She looked around the living room helplessly; she had left her bag with her phone upstairs, in the bedroom. Cursing at herself, she silently went back to the kitchen, a thousand possibilities running through her mind. Looking around the kitchen, she knew her uncle kept a revolver around here somewhere – she knew she could find more than a few around the house, and she had never approved of this. She had never understood his fascination with guns, but for once wished she had paid more attention to his safety lectures and where to find something to protect yourself. She opened two of the cabinets and bent down to look at the top of it, expecting to see something, anything, but there was nothing but pans. Anna cursed silently, and opened the next cabinet, looking inside and smiling when she saw a small box in the corner; reaching out between the pans, she opened the box and took the revolver out, feeling a bit relieved already.

Just as she stood up, however, she heard steps in the living room. Anna tensed up and walked towards the door that led to the dining room, as quietly as possible, but cringed at the noise it made. She slowly took a step into the room, only to realise the door to the living room was open. Balancing the gun dangerously in her hands, Anna startled when she came face to face with a man in the middle of the living room.

"Stop right there!" Anna said, pointing the gun at him and gulping silently.

He appeared to be as startled as she was and raised his hands up. He was tall, much taller than she was, anyway, and he seemed pretty relaxed despite the situation. His hair was a dark shade of brown and seemed to be a bit tousled, as if he kept running his hands through it. His clothes were loose against his body, as if he had lost weight recently, and his speaking brought her attention back to his face.

"I'm sorry," he started, "I was in the cottage and saw the lights on. I assumed someone had barged in or something. I was just checking if everything was alright."

Anna loosened her grip on the gun a little bit, and narrowed her eyes, recognizing him for the first time. She had seen this face many times, on the cover of a few books before, but the John Bates in front of her was older, thinner and more tired-looking than the one in the pictures.

"John Bates?" she asked, and he nodded, his hands still raised. Anna lowered the gun and let out a breath she hadn't realised she had been holding. "I… I'm sorry. I thought someone had barged in."

"Well, I just did," he said, lowering his hands as well. "You should get that alarm system working if you're here alone. I'll fix the window downstairs for you, don't worry."

Anna nodded silently, the gun feeling heavy against her hand. She took three steps into the living room and smiled weakly at him.

"I'm Anna, Max's niece," she said, offering her hand, "He told me you were around, but I just arrived."

John Bates took a step closer and shook her hand, and Anna smelled alcohol and cigarettes. He presented her with a small smile, though; she felt a little giddy at meeting one of her favourite authors. He looked different than she thought he would, but then she knew he hadn't been able to write much in the past few months.

She couldn't help but grin upon the situation. "Can I just say that I'm a huge fan? I just loved _The Second River_. It's one of my favourite books."

"And probably the only remotely good one," he added.

Anna shook her head, "No, well, it's the best of them all, in my opinion, but the others weren't bad. _The Second River_ is just amazing. I still re-read it occasionally. I do like the others. I'm not really one to say, because I approved them, but…"

John Bates frowned. "You approved them? You mean you work at the publisher?"

Anna nodded, "Yes, I'm an editor. I mean, not quite. I read everything, from new and old authors, and I see what goes further to Uncle Max and what doesn't."

John let out a laugh and crossed his arms, "You gotta be kidding me. I need to have a chat with Max."

Anna frowned, realising what he was thinking, "If you think I was sent here because of you…"

"So you're conveniently here, while I'm here too, and I need to get that book finished. What a coincidence," he said sarcastically, "You can go back to London and tell your uncle I've got everything under control."

"I'm not here to check on you," Anna told him, "Me being here has nothing to do with you. And if you think my uncle sent me here because of your book, then surely something's happening. Or maybe not happening."

"Can you be a little more careful with that gun?" he asked briskly, and Anna realised she had been pointing it at him while speaking, "My book being written is none of your business."

"Well, me being here is none of your business either," she stated, "I suppose if you can't write I could help you, if you'd want, of course, because I do understand…"

"You understand nothing," he interrupted her, "Just… stay out of my way. You don't need to be here, and I don't need your help."

He turned on his heel to leave, and Anna rolled her eyes impatiently, "I'm _not_ here because of you, I…"

"Turn the alarm system on," he told her briskly as he reached the stairs, but he didn't turn to face her, "And don't bother me."

Anna stopped and pursed her lips, deep in thought; well, that wasn't how she had envisioned meeting one of her favourite authors. She took a deep breath, putting the gun on the coffee table and running her fingers through her hair. She heard his hurried steps downstairs and cringed at the noise of a door being slammed. Her uncle had mentioned him having some personal problems, but maybe things were more serious than she had initially thought.

She resumed her cooking but not before going downstairs to turn on the alarm; later on, she had to control herself to not reach for the manuscripts she had managed to bring with her, in case she got bored. She knew Uncle Max wouldn't want her to work during her time off, but Anna read for a living, and she did like to read. Instead, she went up to her bedroom with a bottle of wine and drew herself a bubble bath; if relaxing was the main reason why she came here, then relax was what she'd try to do.

She thought about John Bates and got confused about what had happened earlier. She should try and apologise some other time, but maybe she'd ask the Abbotts about him and she might even call Uncle Max to see what exactly happened for the man to be in such stressful conditions. She might as well occupy her thoughts with other troubles while here.

And the relaxing did work; Anna was feeling lighter and a bit tipsy by the time she stepped out of the bath, almost an hour later – and she only decided to get up because her skin was getting wrinkly and the wine was almost gone. She put on her robe and stepped into the bedroom, taking a quick look through the curtains to see outside. The cottage's lights were still on. Apparently John Bates wasn't an early sleeper either.

She turned off the lights and went to bed; she had a lot to do tomorrow.

* * *

John put his glass down with a thud, and noticed the whisky bottle was empty. Perhaps it was time to stop for the evening. He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled slowly. Funny how some long forgotten habits could return quickly. He hadn't smoked in years and for the past months he couldn't go a day without a cigarette. He didn't use to drink so much either. But the past few months seemed pretty appropriate to get back to smoking and drinking on a regular basis. He drank a lot while writing his first book. It didn't seem to be helping much this time around.

His eyes felt a bit bleary as he looked up at the sky. Seemed like they'd have a fine day tomorrow. He wasn't looking forward to it. He took another drag and felt suddenly a bit light-headed. The smoke tasted heavy, but the feeling was enticing at the same time. His fingers traced the edge of the glass absentmindedly. His eyes focused on the main house, in the distance. This time, apparently only a room had its lights on – one on the third floor. He suspected it had a nice view of the lake there.

He laughed humourlessly. Max was wrong if he thought sending his pretty niece to this place would help him get some inspiration for the book. He needed solitude, not a woman. And especially not a young one, who was a fan of his stupid work; he doubted the girl had a good taste in books if she seriously thought he was a good writer. He was very much aware that this was his last chance to prove himself for/to the publisher. And, so far, he had nothing to prove.

He hoped the woman – Anna, if he remembered correctly – would just leave him be. He wasn't in the mood for hearing suggestions and questions about the book. He had enough pressure on him as it was. Perhaps she'd go away after their less than nice encounter. He supposed he could have been a bit more sensible.

John let out another laugh. He had never been the most sensible of men. He could only hope she'd leave the village as quietly as she arrived. It'd do the both of them a lot of good – he hoped.

He didn't know how much time he spent staring at the quiet lights of the house; must have been quite a long time, as he was nearly finishing his cigarette. He blinked when he saw the lights suddenly going out and the house went completely dark. He took a deep breath and averted his eyes from the house, blinking heavily. Another day passed by.

He stood up clumsily and made his way back to the cottage, his steps heavy and uncoordinated. Maybe he'd get something done tomorrow.

He wasn't counting on it, though.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Here's the third chapter! I'll do my best to keep updating weekly but as it is my classes start again tomorrow and I can't promise anything. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter - I'd love to get some feedback! Things will be gettting interesting very, very soon. Thanks so much for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Three_

Anna walked resolutely down the stairs, only stopping once she reached the library. It was quite early in the morning, and she woke up feeling rather content, despite the previous evening's events. There was a beautiful day outside and she had taken a walk around the lake to admire the view. She had been rewarded with solitude, and she hadn't seen a soul. She had even passed by the cottage, half hoping to see John Bates and have a chance to explain herself, but that didn't happen.

Now back at the house, she looked around the study, which also served as a library. Her trained eyes were quick enough to spot the name from a distance, all too used to spending time in this room. The book in question was, however, on a higher shelf and Anna had to bring one of the chairs over to help her reach for it. She hadn't been lying when she told John Bates _The Second River_ was one of her favourite books; she had enjoyed the others too, but they never sold as well as the first one did. She was fairly certain the last three were considered failures by the publisher.

The one she had in her hand was his third book, _Two Brothers_. Anna remembered the story. It was a bit too dramatic and the ending didn't please her. It was well-written, of course, but it could hardly be considered a success.

She turned the book over and opened the last page, her eyes focusing on the picture on the back cover. It was a black and white picture, and the John Bates on it was very different from the current one. His hair seemed darker, and his beard was trimmed. His eyes seemed kind and relaxed, so unlike the tiredness he wore now. Anna read the small paragraph beneath the picture.

"_John Bates started his career as a journalist and has worked on many important newspapers and magazines all over the country as a columnist. Fiction writing was a hobby until he realised it could be much more than that. Author of the best-selling book The Second River._

_Bates lives in London with his wife and his son, and has since given up on the journalistic career to be a full-time writer."_

Anna frowned, deep in thought. This book was published five years ago. She knew that despite everything, the book had sold relatively well. The last books were downright failures, and he hadn't written anything in over two years. She read the info again; there was nothing there. Her uncle hadn't mentioned John would stay with his family and, judging by his state in the previous day, Anna was fairly certain he was alone.

She closed the book and returned it to its place on the shelf.

* * *

"It's so good to have you back, dear," Mrs Abbott said excitedly as Anna entered their living room. "When your uncle called to say you were coming, Ernest and I were so very happy."

Anna smiled, looking around the familiar room; not much had changed.

"And where's Mr Abbott?"

Anna had always had a soft spot for the Abbotts; they had been taking care of the property ever since she could remember, and they'd always give her candy and not give her away when she sneaked out of the house to wander by herself, as a child.

"He's down at the village doing God knows what," Mrs Abbott said with a smile, "Do you plan on staying a long time, Anna?"

"No, only a month. At least for now," Anna answered as she sat down on the couch, "Then I'm back to London."

"Always London! You young people don't want to stay here anymore," the elderly woman had a hopeful look on her face, "Does that mean you're not selling the house?" she asked her hopefully.

Anna gave them a sad smile, "No, I'm afraid we're still selling."

"Oh, that's such a shame," Mrs Abbott said, sitting beside Anna and eyeing her carefully. "You look beautiful, my dear. Only a bit too skinny, if you asked me. Your uncle mentioned you haven't been eating very well."

Anna rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "Well, you know Uncle Max. He worries about anything."

"Oh, but we can't have that! You'll stay for lunch, and I won't take a 'no' for an answer," she said, patting Anna's hand softly, "So, how's life?"

"It's been fine. The publishing business has never been better," Anna told her, raising her gaze to the older woman again, "Ryan got married. Did Uncle Max tell you?"

"He didn't! Young Ryan, married! Though I suppose he's not as young as he used to be," Mrs Abbott teased, "He's happy, then?"

"Very happy," Anna smiled, "His wife is a lovely person."

"I'm sure she is," Mrs Abbott looked at her with a knowing smile, "But what about you, dear? You certainly seem better than the last time you visited."

Anna smiled and looked down at her lap, remembering the circumstances of her last visit; when she had come here to relax and have some time away from the world. She supposed it did the trick back then, but not completely.

"I'm alright," she said, looking up at the elderly woman after a moment and smiling, "I've been better, but I'm alright."

Mrs Abbott smiled kindly at her, "Then I hope the lake will help you feel even better. It's been very quiet now that summer's gone. Only the locals and some few visitors. Have you met that writer who is staying at the cottage?"

Anna nodded, glad she wouldn't have to bring up the subject.

"Yes, we've met. I'm not sure how well we got along, though," Anna said, "What do you think of him?"

"Well, he's a polite man, but very private. I haven't had much of a conversation with him. I try not to meddle much, you know," Mrs Abbott told her, and Anna knew this to be true; she supposed she should ask Mr Abbott for more info. The man always seemed to know everything. "We see him every once in a while, but he doesn't go out much. Just stays in the cottage. Ernest has seen him in the village a couple of times too, with some bottles of whisky."

Anna smiled inwardly. She hadn't met many writers who didn't drink, so this didn't surprise her.

"He stays in the cottage?" Anna asked; Mrs Abbott nodded. "I'll talk to him later. I feel like we haven't started out very well."

"He seems to be a nice man, though," Mrs Abbott said, then stood up. "Now, you should come and see what we've done with the garden. We changed a few things since you last visited…"

Anna smiled and stood up too, following the elderly woman out of the room, glad to be distracted, but her mind didn't wander away from John Bates just yet.

* * *

The sun was still bright in the mid-afternoon sky when Anna stopped right in front of the cottage, for the second time that day. Now, she could see some open windows and the back door open too. She looked around for a moment, hesitating; she wasn't sure what she'd say to him, but she hoped they could be nice to each other. Making up her mind, she walked up the steps that led to the small courtyard. She noticed an empty glass on the small table, and an ashtray full of cigarettes. If this was how John Bates spent his time here, no wonder he didn't write much.

Anna walked towards the back door, smoothing her cardigan nervously.

"Mr Bates?" she called, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as a rush of wind startled her slightly, "Are you there?"

She heard no sound from inside the cottage and stepped in, its familiarity not intimidating her. She walked down the hall quietly; the cottage was pretty much the same as always. The door at the end of the corridor was open and Anna peeked inside the bedroom, seeing no one there, but cringed at the room's state: the bed was unmade and there were plenty of clothes around the room. It was quite obvious John Bates wasn't the most organized person. Anna turned and walked into the living room, cringing further at the mess it currently was – papers, books and more cigarettes; the room itself smelled of smoke and Anna had to open the window to see if it got any better.

"Mr Bates?" Anna tried again, narrowing her eyes and looking around the room. "Hello?"

She took a quick look in the kitchen, but there was no one around. Anna ran her fingers through her hair and took in the current state of the living room. She walked around aimlessly, grabbing some papers from the floor and shaking her head. When her uncle had told her John Bates wasn't well in the moment, she hadn't thought it was this bad. Well, either that, or the man was a slob.

She sat on the couch, unsure of what to do. Looking around, she smiled when she saw a picture of a little boy smiling and holding a ball in his hands. She picked the picture, noticing the boy's dark hair and green eyes. He looked happy – couldn't be more than three years old in the picture. Probably John Bates's son. She put the picture back in its place, her eyes focusing on the open laptop beside it. Anna knew she shouldn't peek, but she wouldn't be doing anything wrong if she accidentally read what was in it, right? She leaned a bit and narrowed her eyes so she could see it properly, but the only thing she saw was an empty reading file. She frowned, and reached out to try and find something when steps could be heard from the corridor. Anna hastily stood up, knocking on the coffee table in turn, and cursed inwardly.

"Should I look for a gun because you've invaded the cottage?"

Anna turned, a bit startled at John Bates's quiet voice, but managed a smile. He didn't return it.

"No, of course not," Anna said, standing up and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry, I saw the door open and thought you might be in here."

"But I wasn't, so you stayed," he stated, crossing his arms in front of him.

"I've only just arrived," Anna defended herself, then took a deep breath, "Look, I just want to make things a bit clearer between us. I think we started off on the wrong foot yesterday."

"It doesn't matter," he told her, "We don't need to get along. I think I made that clear yesterday. I stay here, you stay there. Each one out of the other's way."

Anna pursed her lips. "Mr Bates, I'm not here because my uncle told me to," she cringed at her own words, "Actually, no, I'm sorry, I am. But not because of you, I assure you that. I read the manuscripts they send to me. I don't go after authors whose books are late."

His expression remained blank and Anna fidgeted her fingers nervously; this man certainly didn't make anything easier.

"I am supposed to stay here for at least a month. On vacation," she offered as a simple explanation, "Only there isn't much to do around here. And since we're to be… neighbours, so to speak, I thought I needed to explain myself."

He shrugged and leaned against the wall, taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "Well, you don't need to explain yourself. I get it, it's fine. You didn't have to come here."

He pointed the cigarette at her, and Anna shook her head. "No, thank you. I don't smoke," she watched as he lit the cigarette up and took a long drag out of it. "I know I didn't have to come here, but surely you must have realised there isn't much one can do around here. So I thought I'd stop by and see how you're doing. With the book."

He stopped suddenly and fixed his gaze on her.

"I don't need any help," he grunted, "The book is going just fine."

"Is it?" Anna asked expectantly, "What's it about?"

He laughed humourlessly, "I'm not telling you that."

"Look, I'm just saying that sometimes all you need is a pair of fresh eyes," Anna offered tentatively, "I'm not here to bother you, or to pressure you, but…"

"Too late," he interrupted her, "Listen… it's Anna, right?"

Anna nodded, "Anna Smith."

"Listen, Miss Smith," he said slowly, "The book is going fine. I don't need your help and I don't need to be reminded that it should be finished soon. Thank you for offering, but I refuse your help."

Anna frowned. "I'm not reminding you of anything, I'm just saying that I can help you. You look like you need it."

"Well, I don't," he said exasperatedly, "So, please, you know the way out. I need to work on the book."

He walked towards the couch and sat down heavily, grabbing the laptop from the coffee table and never looking at Anna. She sighed defiantly and left the cottage.

* * *

"I can't stay here for a whole month without working!" Anna complained, pacing furiously around her bedroom, phone in her ear. "Please ask Uncle Max or Ryan to send me some manuscripts. To keep me busy."

She heard her aunt's laugh and frowned, not understanding what was so funny about the situation.

"Anna, do you realise how many people would jump at the opportunity of having nothing to do for a month?" At that, Anna rolled her eyes. "You can always go travel somewhere. There really isn't much to do in the lake. You could go to France, or maybe Portugal. You've always said you wanted to go there again."

"No, I don't feel like traveling," Anna made a face, "Too depressing on my own. Not that this is very happy either. And John Bates – the writer – Uncle Max should have warned me about him. He's so infuriating."

"How come?" Aunt Claire's tone was perplexed.

Anna sighed tiredly, "He just stays there in that cottage, not writing a word and drowning himself in alcohol and nicotine. I offered to help, but he told me to get out. He actually told me to get out, and you know what I did? I got out. The cottage isn't his and he just can't kick me out, but I just flew out of there and came back here. I don't even understand why," Anna gesticulated in a frustrated manner, "He's plain infuriating. His lack of motivation annoys me to no end. I might actually go over there tomorrow and insist on helping one more time. It would at least keep me busy."

Aunt Claire seemed amused. "I'm sure it would. Who knows, it might help the both of you."

Anna sat heavily on her bed. "Do you know anything about him, Aunt Claire?"

"Not much. I've met him once, a few years ago. He seemed pretty happy," her aunt told her quietly, "I remember he had just divorced his wife, because when Max asked him about it he seemed very much happy."

Anna snickered, "Yeah, he's not happy right now. He's just so grumpy and sulky. And I'm pretty sure he needs to have that book written by the end of the year. Which gives him about three months. He clearly needs help."

She heard her aunt laughing softly and frowned; clearly she thought Anna was being ridiculous.

"What?" Anna asked exasperatedly.

"I haven't seen you this worked up about something in years," Aunt Claire said, "I think you should try and help this writer. It will give you something to do and it's never good to have your head empty. Your mother always said that an empty mind is devil's workshop."

Anna smiled. That's exactly what she was going to do.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **This chapter might be a bit too long but I think it really fits this way better. Hope you'll like it. Let's just say the last scene has me a little worried - we don't see John that way a lot in fanfiction, so I'd love to know what you think of it! Thanks so much for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Four_

John splashed some water on his face and took a deep breath. His head was pounding heavily and he closed his eyes for a moment; he shouldn't have drunk so much the previous night. He sighed and looked ahead, at his reflection in the mirror. He looked tired. He needed to shave. He needed a haircut too, as it seemed. God, he looked terrible. But he didn't care.

He walked slowly around the cottage, scanning the living room briefly. It was a mess. He should clean it. Running his hands through his hair, he slowly tried to make the room a little more presentable. Several papers were thrown in the trash can. After five minutes, his eyes chose to focus on his laptop, still lying on the coffee table. It was turned off, as it had been for the past two days. He hadn't even tried writing anything. He probably should start soon.

Pushing that thought aside, he went to the kitchen and looked at the clock. Just past nine in the morning. He didn't feel like having breakfast. He supposed he could get a beer. It was a bright day outside. Warm, even. He could hear people talking on the lake. It was a good day for beer.

Still, drinking got him where he was now – hungover and tired. He settled for a glass of water. He rubbed his eyes when he finished drinking it, then pulled the curtains open in front of the kitchen sink and stared ahead. A bright day, indeed. The tree leaves were green and bright. The sky was blue. Surely he might be able to write something today. He should definitely try it.

He noticed a person walking in the distance, not too far away from the cottage, coming from the main house. He rolled his eyes.

"Not again," he mumbled exasperatedly.

Anna Smith had a determined look on her face, and the sight of her made John cringe. Her hair was in a ponytail and her dress matched the weather, light and bright. He watched from the window as she slowly approached the cottage. He knew what she wanted. For the past three days she was visiting him, looking for him, urging for him to write. The girl was completely, utterly annoying; John had reached that conclusion when she left the cottage the first day. She was bright, and nice, but there was something about her optimism – well, he couldn't very well point out what it was about it, but sometimes it didn't seem right. She had been determined to get him to realise he needed to write – as if he didn't know that. He had been successful, so far, in keeping her away. Her visits normally ended with them arguing and her being offended by something he said. She returned, though. He just couldn't understand why.

Her eyes met his as she approached, and she pursed her lips and nodded in his direction – an awkward greeting, but it fit them. She was beautiful, he had to admit that. Very beautiful. He had noticed that when she had a gun pointed at his face; he never asked about the alarm again. Perhaps he should. She was young, too; how much younger than him? Probably around fifteen years. There was just something about her – something about her that he couldn't figure out.

But he wasn't very much curious about it, either.

He had pondered calling Max to ask him what this was all about, but that would only lead to more questions. Max would want to know about the book, and John couldn't give him the right answers. He was sure Anna would tell her uncle all about the book – or the lack of it, so far – so John decided to keep quiet. Let Anna bother him – she wouldn't change him or the fact that the book needed to be finished in three months and he hadn't even started it properly.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Perhaps he should start on the scotch already. If Anna was here in the morning, he could envision himself having to put up with her for the next few hours, well into the afternoon.

The knocks on the door brought him back to reality and he let out another sigh before leaving the kitchen. He ran his hands through his hair once more and opened the door. Anna Smith smiled brightly at him.

"Good morning," she said, already entering the cottage, "I thought I'd start earlier today. Did you write anything yesterday, after I left?"

He took a deep breath. "No."

"I thought so," she said, giving him a pointed look and walking down the hall without looking back.

His eyes followed her, noticing how her ponytail bounced as she walked. He shouldn't be dealing with her already; he had just woken up. He needed a shower. He didn't need her around. He just… He wanted to be alone.

"Anna, listen, you don't have to be here," he started, walking into the living room to see her opening the curtains and the windows. "I don't want your help. I don't _need_ your help. Just… go back to that house and do what you came here to do. Relax."

She rolled her eyes. "You don't know me. I want to be here and you need my help. You might think you don't, but you do. So let's stop this ridiculous discussion we have every time I come here."

He took a deep breath – he seemed to do that a lot when she was around. Annoying, infuriating woman. He followed her as she went to the kitchen.

"But I…"

"I'm not arguing with you today," Anna interrupted him and turned from the sink to face him. "You have less than three months to finish that book. And we're starting it today, I don't care what you say. Now you'll go take a shower, put on some clean clothes. I'll make us some coffee and we'll get started. No buts."

John glared at her, but she held his gaze. She was serious. He huffed impatiently, then rolled his eyes in defeat.

"Alright. I'll be back in a few minutes."

* * *

He smelled coffee as soon as he left the bathroom. He did feel better after the shower; his head didn't pound as much as before. He walked into the living room, expecting to see Anna there, but the only thing out of ordinary was that the room appeared to be clean. Maybe she had decided to go home. He scratched his head absentmindedly and walked down the hall to the open back door.

No, she hadn't gone home. There she was, sitting on one of the chairs, his laptop open on the table and two mugs in front of her. She was wearing glasses and reading something from the magazine in her hands. John sighed and stepped out, and Anna smiled at him.

"Your coffee is getting cold," she told him, closing the magazine she had been reading. "Come on. Let's work. I still haven't seen you writing a word."

John sat down heavily in front of her and frowned, trying to choose his words carefully. For the past days, she had been insistent and he had been rude. Perhaps he should try to explain it logically to her – she seemed to be in a good mood, despite everything, and she had yet to give him one of her sassy replies, so today seemed a day as good as any to try to put some reason into her head.

"Anna, I appreciate the effort," he started, "but I don't want your help. The book is my problem. You don't need to worry about it."

"But I do," she told him forcefully. She smiled weakly at him. "Come on, there's nothing to do here. I have to stay in this place for at least three more weeks. What else would I worry about? I want to help and you need it. It's the perfect arrangement. I'm not in the mood for arguing, so let's just try this today," her voice held that insistent, annoying tone again, "So, you never did tell me what this book is supposed to be about."

He took a sip of the coffee and pursed his lips thoughtfully; in truth, being a mystery writer, he had started the book in pretty much the same way as all the others before it: choosing a plotline for a murder, possibly, depending on where he wanted to go with the story. It had started off this way, back when he first started writing this book, over two years ago. But after taking a long hiatus from writing, he wasn't exactly sure he wanted to write about that. Mystery seemed, for the first time ever since he started writing, something unusual to him. The words didn't flow, the plot didn't stick. As of now, having written a small prologue and few chapters, he had no plotline.

"I'm not sure," he said at last, "I had intended to start off with this woman. Her siblings are potential suspects in her death. But… it got lost in the story, somehow. That doesn't happen very frequently to me."

"Do you know how you want to continue?"

John shook his head, staring blankly at the computer screen.

"Perhaps a pair of fresh eyes will help somehow," she said tentatively, "Can I read what you have so far?"

Her words were careful, and her tone was hesitant. For a moment he thought of going back inside and just leave everything as it was. But Anna did have a point. He needed to get started, or he'd lose his editor. The coffee felt good against his mouth. The sun gave him a strangely warm, contented feeling. It had been a while since he felt this good. He might give Anna a chance. She seemed like she was owed one now.

"Go ahead," he said unenthusiastically, turning the laptop towards her. "Be my guest."

* * *

Anna was thrilled when, by the end of the day, John seemed to get a bit of an inspiration and even wrote a chapter and a half. It had surprised her when he let her stay, and even more so when he let her read the chapters he had written. It was good material, Anna decided as she read it, though not quite like the usual stuff he wrote, but then she supposed he needed something different to try to sell better.

The book was definitely… interesting. She had no idea where he was going with it so far; the first chapters were very much intriguing and vague, and it seemed more like a drama than a mystery novel. She was curious, she wanted him to continue, but he seemed to be at a loss about how to keep the book going. It almost seemed like he was afraid of continuing it, as if its contents weren't exactly something he was looking forward to. After debating this issue for a couple of minutes, he seemed to be confident enough to write more.

He wasn't what she'd call an open person, but he was nice enough today, Anna decided; he didn't seem to be fond of smiling, but at least they talked about the plot and even ventured into some other subjects while having lunch – he had declined food completely, but when Anna returned from the village with lunch, he hadn't refused – and he had only had two cigarettes and no booze so far. This was progress, Anna realised. This was how she liked to have her job done.

Anna took one last sip of her tea and looked at John, who was currently staring blankly at the computer's screen. She smiled.

"How's it going?" her tone was light; she didn't want to pressure him.

He pursed his lips, and the look he gave her wasn't exactly friendly. So his patience was probably coming to an end, she figured. She had expected as much.

"Well, I'm not writing, so it's not going as well as it should," he told her.

Anna decided to not take his surly tone seriously. "Well, you've accomplished more today than you have in weeks. I guess you're entitled to have a break. Would you like some tea?"

"No," he groaned as she stood up and picked up their now empty tea cups, "Think I'll just have a fag."

She saw, out of the corner of her eye, him taking out another cigarette, and had to bit her lip at this; Anna wasn't particularly fond of cigarettes and she didn't think this habit of his was a very good one. Arching her eyebrows, she decided against commenting anything, and left the courtyard without another word.

She didn't expect him to write much more, as she knew it could be a rather draining process, but she couldn't say she hadn't enjoyed helping him. For the first time in a week, Anna felt useful again. She was already on the verge of going back to London without her uncle knowing, so to have John finally accepting her help was very much rewarding and it certainly gave her an occupation. It was better to help him with his book than to be alone in the house, just her and her memories. Anna figured that if she had come here to relax, she might as well relax by forgetting the real reason why she was here.

And it was working pretty well today.

She took their cups to the sink and stopped for a moment to watch the sun almost completely setting down, the big house shadowing its shine. She washed the cups in silence; she had always rather enjoyed this cottage. She remembered coming here when she was younger, sometimes with friends, sometimes just with her cousin, most of the times, alone. She had loved the freedom it gave her in her youth.

And now John Bates was living in it. For now, that was. Or rather trying to, she supposed, judging by the state he usually left the place in. Anna walked into the living room slowly, not in a hurry to get back to the courtyard. It was best to give John some space. He seemed to be getting into a bad mood now that the day was almost over. She chose to walk by the fireplace, noticing some photographs.

Two of them were of landscapes; pretty pictures. The other one, on the left, was of a little boy – the same little boy in the picture on the coffee table – on a red bicycle. He was smiling brightly, showing off cute dimples on his cheeks. He was a cute little boy. Looked like John would if he smiled, Anna realised; definitely his son. She wondered where he was. Her aunt had mentioned he was divorced, so his profile on the back of the book was definitely in need of an update. Perhaps the boy was with his mother. Yes, that seemed like it.

"Looking for something?"

Anna jumped at the sound of John's voice, nearly letting go of the picture in her hands. Taking a deep breath, she turned to find him almost at her side.

"Don't do that! You made me jump!" Anna exclaimed and noticed how serious he seemed to be. He was staring at the picture in her hands. "I was just looking around. Is this your son? I've noticed another picture of him on the coffee table."

John nodded, gazing at her. His voice seemed weak when he answered her. "Yeah."

Anna smiled. "He's a cute little boy. How old is he?"

"He was… He was six when this picture was taken," he told her quietly. "That was two years ago."

"Oh, so he is eight now? That sounds like a fun age," Anna commented, looking at the little boy's face again. He certainly seemed very happy in the picture. "He must drive you crazy, probably wanting to do all kinds of stuff…"

"No, he is… Actually," John's voice was quiet and she turned her gaze to him, "he died, a year and a half ago. So I can't say if eight is a fun age."

To say that Anna was shocked to hear that was an understatement. She didn't know what to say; she looked at the little boy in the picture again and took a shaky breath, not quite believing this apparently so healthy child was dead. Such a cute boy. She chanced a look at John, only to see unshed tears in his eyes. She cringed.

"I am… Oh, I am so sorry, John," her voice wavered, and she felt tears in her own eyes as well. "I didn't know."

He nodded silently, and she put the picture back into its place. Maybe this was why he hadn't written a thing in such a long time; maybe this was why he was withdrawn from everything. Before she could think on the issue any further, he spoke.

"I think I'm done with writing for today," his voice was barely above a whisper, "You can go home now."

Anna got the message and nodded quietly, looking at the picture once more before slipping out of the room. She closed her eyes shut when she reached the courtyard, wondering if she had ruined everything now that they were finally making some progress. No wonder John was such a quiet, introvert man; Anna couldn't even think how much painful it must be to lose a child. And the little boy seemed so sweet, so bright; she should have kept her mouth shut. Certainly John didn't need to hear that.

She started walking away when she heard a sob coming from inside the cottage, and a single tear slid down her cheek as she reached the path that led to the house.

* * *

Three days later, Anna purposefully avoided going to the cottage. After having a somewhat heated argument with John in the previous day, she wasn't sure she wanted to see him. She had visited the cottage with the purpose of getting him back to writing, like she had managed to do a few days before, but she got absolutely no luck out of it. She had found him in the backyard, drinking his sorrows away, and even though he was never particularly angry, his words were harsh and he had strictly told her to leave him alone. Frustrated at his manners and his lack of motivation, Anna might have been a bit too harsh on him too. Perhaps a bit too much. But she wouldn't think about it now. She'd be gone in two weeks and a half, anyway; perhaps she should just let this go.

She passed by the cottage and glanced at it for a minute, from the distance; every window and door seemed to be closed. Well, she couldn't have expected any different. It was far too early – only a quarter past six in the morning – to have John up. It was unusual even for Anna to be up this early, but as one of her new resolutions was to try and be healthier, she had succeeded, so far, in coming down to the lake to jog for a few days now. She could go so far as to say she enjoyed it, depending on the day. Today, specifically, wasn't a very enjoyable activity; it was earlier than her usual time and the air was much chillier, a clear sign that winter was coming.

She turned her head from the woods and the cottage, and stared ahead at the lake. It looked like it would be a cloudy day. The lake was completely deserted, as far as she could see; there was some mist around it as it was quite early and the whole scenario seemed a bit gothic to her, though it did give her a warm feeling of peacefulness. A sudden rush of wind met her and Anna took a strand of hair out of her face and kept jogging, admiring the view of the lake. She took a deep breath and sped up her rhythm a bit.

She could hardly blame herself for making John retreat like he had, in the past few days; sure, she shouldn't have asked those sensitive questions, but how was she to know? And she was sure it wouldn't do him any good to keep mourning his son's death and never living life again. She didn't know John Bates enough, but she was certain he deserved a new chance – if only he allowed himself to have it. He seemed like a good man. In fact, he was charming, in his own way – certainly easy on the eye. But she didn't understand why he had to be so stubborn and simply refuse to write again, especially after they had made some progress earlier in the week. He was talented and it was all being wasted when he drank himself to unconsciousness and didn't live life properly.

Anna was very much aware she wasn't one to be an example in this case – and she pushed these thoughts to the back of her mind before she gave into these sad memories – but at least her life continued; she worked and socialised and did her best to live life as she could. She definitely knew alcohol wouldn't give her any comfort whatsoever.

She passed by some empty boats and smiled when she saw a fish or two through the surface of the lake. She could hear nothing but crickets and the slow movement of leaves. The lake seemed to be unmoving to the cold wind and the mist gathered around it in a picturesque way. There was something rather pleasant and peaceful in the feeling of being completely alone in such a place.

Or, perhaps, not entirely alone, as Anna suddenly heard water moving and gentle waves in the lake; a few seconds later, she could discern a person in the water.

She kept on walking, slower now, and her first thought was how someone could be so crazy as to go for a swim in the lake in such an hour; as she got closer, however, she could easily tell who that person was.

John Bates.

Frowning, Anna slowly approached the pier close to where John was swimming, dumbstruck at his ability to stand the cold water. She couldn't help but worry a bit about him. Certainly this could categorise as an easy way to get a cold. Her breaths, shallow from running, were steamy in front of her as she walked down the pier; he noticed her and was visibly surprised by her presence. Anna feigned a smile.

"Are you _insane_?" she asked him, loud and clear, noticing a pile of clothes on the pier by her side. "You're gonna get sick this way."

He merely rolled his eyes at her and Anna shook her head at him. What an impossible man.

She might as well test the waters, see if he's apparently in a better mood today; if they can go on without an argument, then she'd be left satisfied and it would already exceed her expectations in any conversation with him.

She vaguely pondered on what to say to John, her eyes gazing everywhere but him.

"I've been coming here for days now and I haven't got sick," he told her out of sudden, swimming closer to her, "So don't you worry about it."

"You are insane," Anna gave him a faint smile. "That doesn't ease my worries, sorry. You should get out of there."

"In a minute," John said, swimming closer to the pier, where she stood. She could see he was cold. Anna frowned.

"Why are you doing this, anyway?" Anna asked, looking down at him.

His hair was all messed up, wet from the water, obviously; Anna still couldn't quite believe he had actually got into the cold water at six in the morning. She watched as he shivered slightly before answering her. She couldn't help but notice his broad naked shoulders and briefly wondered if he had taken off all of his clothes before getting into the water.

"I'm insane, remember?" he said, and Anna smiled. At least he seemed to be in a better mood.

"Right," Anna said with a slight shake of her head, "Listen, John, I… I want to talk to you. I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. About you being a waste of talent. I didn't mean that."

He cringed at her words, and she made a mental note to not speak the words again. He probably didn't need a reminder of what they had talked about in the past days. She took a deep breath. He needed help to finish the book. She needed something to keep her busy. She wouldn't be harsh on him – she'd try to help him. If only he could see it in the simple way she did.

"I just really want to help you," she started, "because I think you can help me too. Somehow."

Anna chanced a look at him. He seemed to be pondering over her words, and for once she decided to be quiet. He nodded slowly after a couple of seconds.

"Okay, I'm getting out now," he announced, and his words surprised Anna; those were not what she had been expecting. She watched silently as he swam over to the edge of the pier and she rubbed her hands together, absentmindedly. His voice once again startled her. "You might want to turn around. I'm not wearing anything here."

"You're – oh," Anna mumbled, cringing at the thought of having a conversation with him naked right in front of her. She turned on her heel, biting her lip nervously. "Right, I'm sorry. I never realised…"

"Stop fretting, Anna," she heard his voice again, and the wood beneath her feet moved ever so slightly, signalling he had already climbed back onto the pier.

She tried to ban the thought of him, standing naked merely a few feet from her, but it was, for some reason, difficult to do so. She changed her weight to her other foot nervously and took a deep breath.

"Right," she said, "I meant what I said. I don't want to make things more difficult to you, but I think…"

"You can turn around now," he interrupted her, and Anna rolled her eyes annoyingly before turning around to see him. "You were saying?"

"Yes, I…" words escaped her lips for a moment, and she cursed at having turned around so soon.

He was still zipping up his jeans, shirtless. His legs, still wet, clung to the material of his pants and his chest was smothered with dark hair; he wasn't exactly what you'd call fit, but he was well-built, with a real man's body. Anna's breath caught in her throat. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to dry it a bit, and she could see a bit of steam rolling off his body, after meeting the cold wind of the morning. She didn't like where her imagination was going with this. She noticed a tattoo on his left arm, but didn't let her eyes wonder any longer as she realised she was staring. She focused her gaze on the floor, thankful that he seemed to be too concentrated on trying to dry off than to notice her staring. No, John Bates wasn't exactly fit, but he definitely had a nice body – a _very_ nice body. Anna suddenly felt hot, and turned her head to look at a meaningless point in the distance. She reached a strand of hair that had escaped her ponytail and put it behind her ear with shaky fingers. Her breath was somehow shallower than when she had been running.

"I hope we can help each other out," she managed to say, and her voice seemed louder than she had intended it to be. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him putting his shirt on and gazed at him, catching a glimpse of his bellybutton and shifting her gaze to the floor again.

She was sure she was blushing when she heard him take a deep breath and looked at his face, thankful that he was now fully clothed – except for his feet.

"I need to finish that book," he stated quite simply with a shrug. "And I'm not sure I can do it in less than three months. But I think it's time I properly tried to."

Anna smiled at him, and she saw a ghost of a smile on his face as well. He ran his hands through his dripping wet hair once more, and she thought he looked ridiculously charming – then she put that thought to the back of her mind. She was glad he was apparently accepting her help now. He walked slowly towards her, and she waited until he reached her to walk back towards the trail. He was carrying his shoes in one hand and still trying to dry off his hair with the other. Anna noticed he had pretty feet. Big feet, too. She averted her eyes once again, and stared ahead at the woods in front of them. She had seen naked men before. Sure, she hadn't seen one in a long time, but that didn't mean she could be so affected by seeing one – half-naked, at that – now.

"So you've been coming to the lake for a swim?" she asked, trying to make her tone as light as possible. He seemed oblivious to her thoughts.

John nodded. "Yes, it… it might seem weird, but it soothes me, somehow."

Anna smiled, "We all have our weird quirks."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **And here's chapter 5! I would absolutely love to know what you're thinking of the story so far. Good? Bad? Drunk John sucks and Anna is annoying? :P Let me know! And thanks for everyone who reviewed before! :)

* * *

_Chapter Five_

John couldn't help but sigh deeply for the third time in a row; he had been writing quite a lot for the past three days, and it had been flowing very well until this afternoon. Even though he was relieved he had written at least a few chapters, he was still far from finishing the book. It had turned quite an unexpected turn in the plot, to him even, but the ideas had been flowing and the overall timeline of the book was slowly being formed in his mind, though it was still a bit foggy.

He took a drag on his cigarette and breathed out slowly, his eyes focusing on Anna, sitting in front of him. She was using her own laptop too, writing something – though he had no idea what. He noticed her nostrils moved as the scent of smoke reached her, and he wondered if he should stop smoking near her. He had a feeling she didn't like it.

She seemed quite focused on what she was doing now, anyway; the weather was nice enough to stay outside and for the past days they had formed some sort of routine. Anna would come around mid-morning and make him sit and write, while she'd do anything else for the rest of the day. She truly intrigued him, ever so much. He had yet to know why she really needed to be at Calm Waters, when she obviously didn't want to be here. He had come to appreciate her company, though – he needed to write, that much he was very well aware of. And even though he couldn't understand why she was so eager to help him, he had to admit it was working. It seems like all he needed was a bit of pushing.

Her fingers were quick and loud against the key board, and not for the first time he wondered what she was writing. She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes, resuming the typing for a moment before getting back to it. She hadn't noticed him staring yet. She had her hair down today – he hadn't seen it this way many times before. It suited her. Her hair was beautiful, he had to admit. Even if it was a rather cloudy day, it sparkled a bit against the daylight, cascading down her shoulders. She was a beautiful woman. There was something about her…

Anna looked up and her bright eyes met his for a split of a second before he looked away, turning to his computer screen again.

"What is it?" he heard her say, and looked up again. Her voice seemed tired.

"I'm a bit uninspired today," he said before taking another drag of his cigarette. He noticed her nostrils flared a bit at this again. "Can't seem to find the right words."

She pouted. "Oh, really? But you were writing so much these past days."

He shrugged, leaning back on his chair.

"Can I read it? I haven't read any of the new stuff," she asked tentatively.

He nodded and stood up, announcing he'd pour himself a drink and ignoring her narrowed eyes; it was obvious she wasn't fond of his lifestyle, if that's what he could call it. If there was something that frustrated him it was writer's block, even if it's just for a little while – and he had been struggling with it long enough to know that there wasn't much he could do about it. But hell, he could use a bit of a drink. He supposed he should be thankful, really; he wrote more in three days than he had done in three months. But he still had a long way to go.

He went to the small kitchen to get a glass, and found himself checking the calendar; being away in this place made him rather unaware of the outside world. He rarely went out, only to get supplies in the village and maybe walk around the lake and take a swim. October was coming to an end, though, and he cursed out loud. He had promised Max he'd get the book finished by Christmas. He had less than two months.

He chanced a look at November but stopped instantly, and his nonchalant air was broken immediately. There were certain things he did not need to think about, not now; he needed to finish the book. Now that the plot was slowly outlining itself in his mind, he couldn't stop. If anything, he couldn't disappoint Anna. For the past three days, she had done nothing but encourage him and not mind his sometimes almost rude replies. He knew there was more to the young woman than she let on, he just didn't know what that was.

He poured some whisky into the glass and took a sip, enjoying the feeling of the liquid against his throat. He wondered if he should call Max and inquire about Anna. He had known Max had a niece, but John had never met her before, and knew virtually nothing about her, only that she apparently was just like a sister to Ryan, Max's son. She was a bright woman, and from her comments he could see that she knew her job well. She knew the technicality of writing very well, and even asked about his problems with writer's block, offering some tips on how to overcome it. Still, in the past three days, they talked little about anything else. He took another sip of the whisky. While at first he wasn't very happy about her presence around the place – though happy wasn't a word to describe it now, either – he found himself curious about this woman. The most amusing thing he knew about her so far was that she didn't like cigarettes, which was hardly good information, especially when he had nothing with it.

He drank the rest of the whisky and decided to wash the few dishes by the sink, thinking that maybe it'd at least keep his mind somewhere else. Simple tasks often cleared his head, as weird as it might sound. He did feel a little better by the time he finished it, or perhaps it was just the drink getting to him – no, he doubted it. He decided to go outside and see if Anna was finished with the reading; he was curious as to what she'd say to the new developments in the story.

She was still glued to the computer screen when he got back outside, and he thought nothing of it until he sat down across from her and noticed her red eyes. Had she been crying?

"Anna, what's–"

Her blue eyes were staring directly upon him and he noticed her tear-stained cheeks. She was frowning at him.

"You killed Miles! I can't believe it," she said resolutely, closing her eyes for a moment before sniffing loudly. "He was so good to Nancy, and he was helping her go through the death of her brother. I just… I didn't expect it."

John relaxed a bit upon hearing her explanation and couldn't help but feel slightly amused by it. He hadn't realised the death of a character so soon in the book would come as such a shock, and he had never experienced someone's reaction to it, especially to one of his books, even an unfinished one. His ex-wife used to read his books but she was never an emotional woman when it came to fiction. Anna was obviously different.

"Miles was a very damaged character. I had planned his death from the beginning. I didn't think it would shock you so much," John offered as an explanation while Anna wiped her tears away. "I'm sorry."

He was sincere. The character in question was a recovering drug addict, and he hadn't thought it'd be such a shock to a reader, he really hadn't. Anna's reaction surprised him, but then he had no idea how emotional she was over these things.

She nodded. "I just didn't expect it. And you worded it so very well. It was just really… intense. Did he overdose on purpose?"

Her voice wavered a bit and she looked anxious. John tried out a small smile.

"I can't say it. Spoilers, remember?"

She smiled back, but it didn't reach her eyes. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I feel a bit emotional today," she said softly, handing him his laptop. "Not much of a help, I'm afraid."

He crossed his arms in front of him and stared at Anna. She did seem a bit out of sorts today. John turned to look a bit helplessly at the laptop; somehow, he had a feeling the will to write wouldn't return now. Maybe later in the evening. He needed to plan the chapter; he couldn't write aimlessly.

"Do you want to take a walk or something?" Anna asked him quite suddenly. She reached to put a lock of her hair behind her ear. She seemed a bit nervous. "It might clear your head and now it's a good time for a walk."

John nodded. He had a feeling he wasn't the only one who needed to clear his head.

* * *

They walked silently by the lake, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. John remembered how hopeful he felt when he first came by the lake – he felt it was such a perfect place to write. He was sure his book would be finished soon then; it was a shame that sentiment hadn't lasted very long.

The cloudy weather prompted fishermen to show up, though; many boats could be seen, but that didn't disturb the quietness at all. John let Anna lead the way, and she had chosen to walk towards the big house, though they still walked by the lake. John had only taken that route once, feeling like he had somehow invaded the family's propriety, but of course that was not a problem with Anna. The air was getting a bit chilly though, as it was getting darker by the minute. He put his hands in his pockets. Anna adjusted her cardigan and crossed her arms in front of her as they walked.

"You come here a lot, then?" John tentatively asked, breaking the silence.

Anna shook her head. "I haven't come here in three years," she smiled and let out a small laugh, "My uncle calls this my rehab place. Whenever I don't feel well, I come here."

He chuckled. "It is true?"

"Not really," she answered, "We used to come here all the time when I was a child. My grandfather lived here, after he retired. Quite a big place for him, I suppose, he liked grand stuff."

"Must have been heaven for a child, with so much space," he commented.

Anna nodded. "It definitely was. The housekeeper absolutely hated us."

They shared a smile and John turned to look at the house; they were now at the back of it, and he wondered if they were still on Max's propriety, observing the tall walls surrounding the house.

"After Grandpa died, Uncle Max got it. We came here every summer," she told him with a smile, "After a couple of years, Ryan and I were too busy with our lives to come here and that's why they're trying to sell it. The house is too big for a couple and Ryan is not very interested in it."

"And you're not interested either?"

"In keeping it?" she asked and he nodded. "Of course I am. But what would I do with it? I feel lonely enough having that big house to myself and I'm just spending some time here. And it's not like I can afford it."

He could sense the sadness in her tone and tried to keep the conversation light.

"And there I was thinking you visited the cottage for the alcohol and my company," he said softly. Even though he wasn't writing, he hadn't felt this good in months. He thought being alone in this place would ease all his agonies, but it turned out being alone had been the worst option so far and had done nothing to help him.

Anna seemed surprised by the tone in his voice and he flustered a little, deciding to stare ahead; they hadn't really had any conversation that wasn't about books and it was somehow awkward to share any other kind of information. He could see her smiling out of the corner of his eye, though.

"In my defence, I only accepted alcohol from you once," Anna said with a chuckle. He noticed she bit her lip again and hesitated before talking. "Would you mind if we wandered a bit off the lake?"

John shook his head. "No, not at all."

He followed her lead once again, and they lightly chatted as they walked, silence long forgotten. From what he could gather, Anna spent a great deal of her childhood in this place. She seemed to know every narrowed path, every tree along the wooded area. She pointed to the boat house in the distance, going as far as asking him if he enjoyed fishing and saying that he could use their boat if he wanted to. She did mention she had always thought the place was rather gloomy and that the boat was rarely used.

Soon, he realised, they were walking to the side of the house, one that he hadn't seen before. They passed by the stone walls again and if they kept walking this way they'd get to the Abbott's cottage; they walked a bit further into the trees and soon he found what Anna had probably been looking for. A small clearing, just a few feet from the house, with a rather big swing set in the middle. There was a bench too; he supposed this would have been a nice family place, perhaps for a picnic. For a moment he thought that his son would have loved such a place.

He chanced a look at Anna. She seemed to be in better spirits than when they had first left the cottage.

"This is a nice place," he commented as he followed Anna; she was already ahead of him, walking towards the swing. "Is it inside the propriety?"

Anna nodded, her fingers tracing the material of the swing, a slight smile on her face.

"Yeah, but it's not inside the gates so anyone coming from the lake can use it," she told him softly. "It's pretty old. I don't know how it's still standing. My grandfather had it done for me when I came to live here."

"So you actually lived here?"

She nodded. "For a few years. My parents died when I was four. The paperwork concerning me took ages. Grandpa was my guardian until he died, when I was ten. That's when I went to live with Uncle Max and Aunt Claire."

The news didn't take him completely by surprise; judging by her comments, he had gathered that Max and Claire were more than just uncle and aunt to her. She spoke quite calmly about it, though he supposed she had been much too young to remember a lot.

"I'm sorry to hear that," John told her. Her eyes were kind when she met his.

"It's fine," she said softly, her fingers tracing the ropes of the swing, "It was a long time ago, and believe it or not, I had fun. I remember I thought it was like a holiday. Only after a while it became clear it wasn't," she took a deep breath. "I'd come running here and swing as high as I could. Which wasn't much, considering how young I was. But it made me feel better."

John stood and crossed his arms in front of him. He smiled knowingly. "So this is your rehab place?"

Anna laughed – probably the first true laugh he had ever heard from her. It felt good. It sounded beautiful to his ears. She needed to laugh more.

"I suppose so," she agreed with a smile. "Everyone has a safe place. Right?"

He pursed his lips. "I suppose."

She threw him a playful look. "Do you think I should try to see if it still stands?"

She was clearly excited, and he had to smile at the sweet expression on her face.

"It won't cost you more than a sore butt," he said, and she rolled her eyes before sitting carefully on the swing. Apparently it still stood. She smiled triumphantly.

He decided to sit on the bench, content in waiting until Anna wanted to leave the place. She seemed to be enjoying the swing and he had a feeling she had needed it somehow. He admired the place around them. He could hear some birds not far from them. No wonder so many families visited during the summer. It was such a peaceful, calming environment. He was feeling a bit inspired already. He might actually write a new chapter when they got back.

"What are you thinking?" Anna suddenly asked, still swinging, though very slowly. It was quite a revealing question, he briefly thought. They weren't usually so casual with each other. It had all been about business lately.

He did smile, though. His answer came out as tentative as her question.

"Just… my son would have loved this place."

And a more revealing answer it could not have been. It quite surprised him; he rarely talked of Danny to anyone. Not to his close friends, not that he had many of them; not to his relatives, though they weren't very close. Why was he opening up to someone he barely knew?

He didn't ponder that question any longer; somehow, it felt right.

Anna stopped swinging. Her voice was gentle when she spoke again.

"What was his name?"

"Daniel," he said, taking a deep breath. "He loved swing sets. He'd have been higher than you were, against my orders. But he never overstepped any boundaries."

She smiled sadly. "He must have been a bright little boy."

John nodded. His throat suddenly felt tight. "He was. Very bright."

He took a deep breath, and Anna said no more. It wasn't so easy to talk about him; he could still hear his laugh. He could certainly envision Danny sitting on the swing next to Anna, pleading for his father to push him. Had it really been more than a year?

"We can go now, if you want to," Anna interrupted his thoughts. "Maybe you can finish a chapter today?"

He nodded. Yes, he might finish a chapter today. One less chapter until the last one.

"Let's go."

* * *

He saved the document file and smiled appreciatively. He chanced a look at the clock. It was pushing midnight, but in the end he had managed to write yet another chapter.

"It's done, Anna," he said rather cheerfully. "Do you want to read it now or–"

John turned to look at Anna, and was rather surprised to find her lying down on the couch, fast asleep. He had been so focused on the chapter he hadn't muttered a word in the last forty minutes. He had been sitting on the chair by the fireplace, far too entranced by words and plots and imaginary scenarios of his own book.

Anna had been nothing but supportive when they came back to the cottage. She had properly commented on the previous ones – that she had failed to actually talk about after her vague breakdown a few hours prior to this – and mentioned he seemed to be going in the right direction with the story, despite everything. They talked about the plot and the book and shared some ideas – it certainly opened his mind. By the time he really started writing, it was flowing so easily and he had it all ready in his head, if it wasn't for Anna to bring him some food he'd have easily forgotten about eating.

He smiled. She was frowning in her sleep. He hadn't thought she'd actually be of so much help as she had been. He needed to thank her – better yet, he needed to do something to thank her. He closed down his laptop and sighed, careful to not make much noise. He'd think about it in the morning. He desperately needed some sleep; somehow, the day had seemed very exhausting.

He didn't have the heart to wake Anna; if his day had been exhausting, he imagined hers hadn't been much different. She had seemed terribly out of sorts and he briefly wondered if the only reason for her breakdown was the death of a character. She suddenly was very… intriguing. How many more secrets did she have?

He stood up and made his way into the bedroom, opening up a cabinet and taking a blanket out of it. Walking back to the living room, he carefully put the blanket over Anna, hoping that she wouldn't wake up. She didn't, however; she snuggled deeper into the blanket and he thought he saw the ghost of a smile cross her lips. She really was a beautiful woman. He recalled her laughing previously that day – it had been quite precious. He needed to hear it again.

John had to stop his fingers mid-air as he made to take some of her hair out of her face; he wouldn't touch her. Straightening up, he smiled and in silence walked back to the bedroom.

The frown had all but disappeared from Anna's face.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: I can't believe this is Ch. 6 already! Really hope you'll like it. Thanks so much for everyone who has reviewed! I still haven't replied to everyone, but I will as soon as I have some time. Thanks so much!

* * *

_Chapter Six_

Anna eyed John in silence as she took pans and food out of the cabinets; it was his first time inside the house since the day they met, and he looked a bit out of place, out of his element there, in the corner by the window. They had been discussing his book, in the cottage, and as lunch time approached Anna announced she'd make them something to eat. Upon checking the small kitchen's cabinets, however, she could hardly find any real food there; in summary, the cabinets contained crisps and alcohol, and Anna had confirmed her thoughts that he didn't eat well either. In the times she actually stayed for lunch – all too often she only showed up early in the afternoon – they had either gone to the village to have something to eat or Anna brought something from the house. This time, she'd have none of it. She'd make them lunch and then they'd go and buy some real food for the cottage. John's lack of grumbling was taken as a good sign.

He hadn't been in a good mood recently, that much Anna knew. She had a feeling his crazy trips to the lake were getting more frequent and it worried her. All too often his eyes were distant and unfocused, and the words in the book were getting more infrequent. He had reached a point in the story where he didn't know where to take it, and despite Anna's ideas and thoughts being welcomed, he hadn't written much lately.

He was currently observing her, hands in his pockets, as if unsure of what to do. Anna took a deep breath.

"You're like that because you prefer the food from the village restaurant to my cooking, right?" she asked in a light tone.

His smile was a weak one, but it was there. He shook his head. "It's not that. I'm a bit anxious, that's all. I just want to get that book finished."

Anna smiled. "Well, you can't do it with an empty stomach," she took a hair tie out of her pocket and pulled her hair into a quick ponytail, finding John staring at her as she did this. She felt herself blush. If they were at the cottage he'd be probably drinking or smoking. Or both. Probably not staring at her. "You can smoke if you want to."

"Oh, no," he said almost instantly. "I'm… trying to stop."

She smiled inwardly at this; she had noticed he hadn't smoked in a few days.

"Well, that's very nice to hear," she told him, "It's not good for you."

"So I've heard," he arched his eyebrows and walked towards her tentatively. "So, do you want any help? With lunch?"

"That'd be nice," Anna accepted gratefully. "Do you cook?"

He shrugged but smiled – brighter than before. "I can manage."

Anna let out a chuckle. "So we'll see."

* * *

He watched as Anna swiftly opened the French windows of the room, making it instantly revitalized. A gentle wind blew outside and the library, now ventilated, instantly made him feel at home. The smell of books and papers often did that to him. It was a big, vast room, full of books in shelves that reached the ceiling. He had to smile, it was difficult not to; of course Anna thought this room might inspire him. And she would be right.

"Well, as you can see, not all books are here," Anna pointed at some upper shelves that were empty. "Uncle Max took what he wanted when the house was put on sale. There's a study there too."

She pointed to a doorway in the corner and John followed her there; there was a desk in the corner and more empty shelves. Anna went on to open the French windows and he walked a bit aimlessly, choosing to inspect a shelf near to the door that wasn't empty. He smiled at some books from Agatha Christie and was surprised to find two of his books there. He turned to look at Anna, who was now approaching him with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans.

"I see you've found my books," she told him with a smile. "I still haven't taken them out of here. No matter what Uncle Max tells me, I don't have the heart to do it. Not just yet."

"You have two books I wrote here," John stated.

Anna nodded. "I did tell you I was a fan, didn't I? The others are in London, though."

His fingers traced the pattern of the book's hard cover and smiled. So she had been sincere.

"What do you like to read?" he asked her softly, before he could even think about what he was saying.

"A bit of everything," she answered. "Mysteries, obviously. And romances. Really, a bit of everything."

They exchanged a contented look and John turned back to the books. He took a deep breath. Even with few books the distinct smell of paper and printed word made him feel at home. His eyes met Anna's again a second later; she had been looking at him. She narrowed her eyes.

"So? Do you want to try to write here or do you want to get back to the cottage?"

He smiled. "I think a change of scenery might do me good."

The different atmosphere certainly improved his mood considerably; John was able to focus on the book and get his mind off things he didn't want to think about right now. He and Anna had sat at the study desk, across from each other, and she was currently sipping her tea contently while making some notes in a notebook. He was often intrigued by this; she always seemed to be writing something down, though he had no idea what. She had told him more than once she had no talent for writing at all, and yet it was one of her main occupations while he worked.

His own writing was going better, though the book was getting a bit exhausting, if he was honest with himself. Emotionally complicated chapters often wore him out, but he thought he was doing rather fine in the current situation. He found that one of the main characters of his novel seemed to be a bit like Anna – a lot like her, in fact. He smiled at the thought; wouldn't be his first time composing a character based on someone. But he didn't know Anna all that well, so it was all written with a large amount of assumption on his part. He wondered if Anna realized that when she read it.

He looked up when he heard a sigh, and saw her stretching her arms, the pen long forgotten; her hair was cascading around her shoulders and a few strands were covering the side of her face. He tried not to stare, but it was difficult not to – Anna not only intrigued him, she fascinated him. He was often entranced by her presence, by her beauty and her voice, and sometimes – when he realized how dangerous those feelings were, he did his best to keep them hidden. It was, however, getting more difficult by each day. And that – that made him nervous.

He tried not to notice her slightly shallow breathing as she stretched or how her expression of sweet relief in relaxing her limbs a bit made her look; he tried not to notice how the blouse she was wearing fit her ever so perfectly, or how her back had arched in her current position. But still – he noticed. His heart was beating a bit faster against his chest now and he was desperate to look away, but found that he couldn't. When Anna opened her eyes a second later, she was met by his gaze, and he saw a faint blush creep into her cheeks. She put the loose strands of her hair behind her ear and seemed a little flustered.

She let out a nervous laugh. "I'm sorry."

He hadn't been prepared for that, finally blinking. "Oh, no, um, it's fine. It's just… you seem very at ease here. Very comfortable."

He cursed mentally at his poor excuse, but she seemed to not have noticed anything different and smiled at him.

"Well, I did live here, remember?" she told him softly, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning against the back of the chair. She looked around the library. "My grandpa used to sit right where you are now to read. I used to keep him company. I'd bring my dolls and play on the floor."

He smiled at her memory. He could easily envision her as a little girl with bouncy blonde curls running around with a doll and probably making her grandfather annoyed.

"It's funny," Anna continued. "I feel like this is home, you know? The air and the rooms. I only properly lived here for a few years, and this is the only place that feels like home. I know I should be thankful to Uncle Max for being there for me and being my family. I have no idea where I'd be if it wasn't for him and Aunt Claire," she took a deep breath. "It'll be a shame when they sell this place."

John frowned. "It was your grandfather's. So surely some of it is yours."

Anna nodded. "Technically it belongs to Uncle Max and me. But I can't exactly buy it and keep it as a luxury. This was made for a big family. Not a single woman without children. It's of no use for me."

"You're very young, Anna," he found himself saying. "Surely you've thought about having a family."

She shook her head. "No, not really."

She seemed sad. He tried to smile.

"Never?"

He thought he saw a shadow cross her eyes. "Not in a long time, no."

She looked down; he had made it uncomfortable. Thankfully, she was the one to look up and speak again only a few moments later. The same trained smile he had seen a couple of times before was registered on her face.

"I used to want a big family, though," she commented, "when I was younger. I've always wondered if… if my parents hadn't died, would I have had siblings?" her smile seemed sad now, but sincere. "So I used to want at least three children. Children need the company of other children, too."

John smiled sadly at her; she probably had been a lonely child. Her only cousin seemed to be Ryan, and it seemed like they only lived together after their grandfather died. John might have been an only child, but he had had plenty of cousins who lived nearby and he was always around other children in their trips to Scotland and Ireland.

He tried to make the situation light.

"Three children?" he repeated with a sly smile. "You'll have your hands full."

Anna let out a chuckle. "Yeah, well. I'd be up for it. But I doubt it'll happen," she shrugged and pursed her lips. "I'm going to London tomorrow, by the way. I spoke to Aunt Claire yesterday and there's a buyer for this place. They want to talk to me."

"I'm sorry about that."

She shook her head. "It's fine. I won't be opposed if they think it's worth it," she took a deep breath and met his gaze with a smile. "Plus, I've been here for six weeks. More than I intended to. I want to get some manuscripts from Uncle Max and work on them here."

"You can go back, Anna," he told her quietly; he hated that he seemed to be keeping her in this place. "You don't need to be here."

"Of course I do, you silly beggar," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I can easily work from here. I need to get something done while you write anyway. And I want to be here. I suppose it's my way of enjoying this place before we sell it."

John smiled. He knew better than to argue with her these days. She smiled back.

"Well," she looked around curiously, "anything new there that is worth reading?"

* * *

Anna took a sip of the wine and had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at John. He had been in a good mood ever since lunch, but he seemed so very thoughtful – as if he wanted to say something but couldn't. It annoyed her sometimes, but at the same time she couldn't help but find it endearing.

They had stayed at the house some more, into the afternoon, and then left, at Anna's insistence, to buy some groceries needed at the cottage. Only when they were there that Anna realised what domestic thing it was, to go through a list of groceries and buy things. She knew most people there, and she was sure it raised some curiosity as to why she was grocery shopping with the writer. Strangely, even to her, she found that she didn't mind it in the least.

They went back to the cottage and they proceeded to fix themselves something to eat; as it was, John not only was a great helper in the kitchen, he was also probably a better cook than she was, judging by the way he was now chopping an onion. He had declined her help, simply offering her a glass of wine – she had noticed he hadn't drank much whiskey lately too – and telling her this would be his way of paying for all the meals she had made so far.

"Good wine?" John asked her softly, breaking her out of her reverie.

She smiled. "Good wine."

He looked up from his current task and sent her a smile that made her feel breathless for a second.

She was currently leaning with her back towards the counter as he worked on the sauce that would accompany the pasta he was making; Anna had even teased him about trying out something simple, but he said it was a speciality and she didn't argue.

"You're quiet today," she noted as he moved to check one of the pans. "Anything on your mind?"

John stopped for a moment while putting the onions in the pan. He took a deep breath.

"It's… It's nothing," he put on a smile, but Anna didn't feel it was a real one. He turned to look at her. "Tomorrow would be my son's eighth birthday."

Though Anna hadn't exactly known what to expect, that certainly wasn't it. She was surprised and she didn't try to hide it. And she had mentioned children earlier in the day too! God, she didn't know how he took it all so well and never seemed wishful or anything about it.

"Tomorrow?" she repeated. "Oh, John. I am so sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," he said a bit too quickly. "It feels a bit weird, that's all. Last year, it was… it wasn't a good one."

She remembered him saying his son had died a year and a half ago, so it would probably be only the second birthday he was missing. Anna couldn't help but feel sympathy, and felt her heart break at the prospect of him being alone during such a meaningful day. She knew that far too well – but to lose a child, that she didn't know. And yet she was sure there could be no worse feeling in the world.

"Do you want some company tomorrow?" Anna found herself tentatively asking. "I can go some other day. I really don't mind staying-"

"No, don't worry, Anna," he said with a grateful smile. "I've done it before, I can do it again. But thank you."

"I don't mind staying," she insisted, reaching over to his free hand instinctively. His hand was warm. "Really, I don't. I don't even like the thought of you being alone-"

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She felt butterflies in her stomach. They were standing very close to each other. "Don't worry about me. I can manage," he interrupted her, "I'll try to work on the book while you're away."

Anna smiled and nodded, knowing she shouldn't insist once again. He took his hand off hers to stir the content of the pan. She felt slightly empty. He said something about the food. The previous conversation would be forgotten – she knew it.

A drizzle had started by the time dinner was ready and they enjoyed it at the small table next to the living room. Anna couldn't remember eating better pasta, and had complimented John on it. It was all quite pleasant – it had been rather cold during the day and Anna had even suggested John lit up the fireplace and turned the radio on some local station. She told him about how she'd often come to Calm Waters on weekends during university and stay in the cottage. It was funny to think about, really, how hostile he had been when she first arrived here, and how welcoming and interested he seemed now.

She knew he had troubles – she knew it was hard for him to open up. But it was hard for her too, and she respected him. Somehow, they had reached a level of mutual respect for each other over the weeks. They were comfortable now, perhaps not in some subjects, but generally, they were comfortable – they chatted, they even laughed. And she had been sincere when she told him she didn't want to leave – she truthfully didn't. She enjoyed his company, and even though she had yet to admit it to her aunt and uncle, staying there was making her feel better.

And she had a feeling he'd miss her the next day.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** So we'll learn a lot about John in this chapter - and Anna, maybe? Any speculation? Would love to get some feedback on this. :) I'll reply to the reviews as soon as possible, so thank you so much for those who took their time to do it. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

_Chapter Seven_

Anna eyed her aunt carefully as she sat across from her for tea, just the two of them; after debating the pro and con of selling the house, Anna had told her uncle he could do whatever he wanted. She knew they wanted to sell and she also knew she'd never completely agree to any terms whatsoever – the property had too much emotional value for her to want to let go of it. She got some manuscripts from Uncle Max – who seemed rather surprised to see her not begging to come back to work, but had even told her to keep not working and enjoying her vacation – though Anna would have none of it.

She knew her aunt enough to know that she wanted to talk about something specific, but Anna remained silent as she prepared her tea. As she took the first sip, her aunt was looking at her with curious eyes. Anna smiled.

"What is it?"

Aunt Claire shook her head. "Nothing. Just… you seem well. This time away has been doing you good."

"It's been good to be there," Anna said quietly. "You know how I love that place."

"I called Mr. Abbott yesterday, after I called you and you didn't answer," she gave her a pointed look. "He told me you've been visiting the writer a lot. How's the book going?"

"John's made some progress," Anna answered. "I think it might be a huge success. He's going for drama instead of mystery. Kind of risky, but it's been working well. He's very talented."

"Mr. Abbott told me he's seen you two in the village once or twice," Aunt Claire tentatively said. "Having lunch."

There it was. Anna shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Of course her aunt would want to know about him. Anna purposefully didn't talk much about him in their phone calls, but of course Aunt Claire would ask Mr. Abbott about it and of course he'd tell her what he knew. Anna didn't know why this bothered her so much – it wasn't as if she and John were more than friends, anyway. It wasn't as if there was anything else going on there.

"We're just friends, before you get any weird ideas," Anna told her aunt.

"I never said that," Aunt Claire said defensively, "How is he? You said he had been rude at first but that he had been nice lately. Have you made amends then?"

"It was a bit rocky at first, but he's such a nice person," Anna said, "Not rude at all. Very gentle and polite."

Aunt Claire smiled. "And how do you help him with the book?"

Anna took a sip of the tea and then smiled. "I offer him a new perspective when he seems unable to move forward. Seems rather silly, but I find it enjoyable. And I know he likes my fresh eyes."

"I'm sure he does," her aunt said with a knowing smile.

"He's such a brilliant writer," Anna found herself saying. "He's really passionate about it when he's in a good mood for writing. It's amazing to see."

"He's been doing you some good. You're smiling more."

Anna looked down unconsciously. "It's not like that, Aunt Claire. We're just friends."

"Of course you are. For now," she added, and Anna gave her a pointed look almost immediately. "Anna, I'm not saying you should be with this man. I just want you to have fun."

Anna shook her head. "I don't need to be with someone."

"I know you don't, but I think it might do you some good. You've been on your own for too long. It's been two years," Aunt Claire took a deep breath. Anna looked down again. "You know Colin would have wanted you to be happy."

Anna closed her eyes in defeat. She didn't need to be reminded of Colin – when people said his name it hurt even more.

"Would he, really?" she found herself saying. "I don't know if he would. Not after what happened."

"Of course he would. He wouldn't have wanted you to be miserable and mourning forever," her aunt's voice was gentle. "Just think about it. You seem better after spending some time away with someone else. I just want you to be happy again."

"Thanks for your concern. Truly," she said, finally looking up. "But we're just friends."

The words left a bitter taste in her mouth and she sipped her tea again. Not only they were bitter, but they had seemed rather empty too. And suddenly Anna couldn't wait to get back to Calm Waters.

* * *

For some reason, instead of going to the house when she got back, Anna found herself parking right in front of the cottage, next to John's car. The trip to London had, all in all, tired her out almost completely. It was a long drive and even though she had originally planning on staying the night, she decided to get back after tea – meaning it was dark already when she reached lake district. For all that she knew, John might be in bed already, and yet something made her drive directly to the cottage. The possible selling of the property along with the conversation with Aunt Claire made Anna feel emotionally exhausted, and she desperately needed some sleep. But it wouldn't hurt to check on John – she knew it had been a difficult day.

The front door was locked, so Anna knocked; the bedroom lights were on, so he was probably still awake. She heard a voice – his voice. Possibly speaking on the phone. She decided to round the cottage and try the back door. John wouldn't mind.

Anna cringed when she noticed a glass on the table outside. He had been drinking. The back door was, indeed, unlocked, and Anna was met with silence when she opened it.

"John?" she tried, walking down the narrow hall.

She stopped by the bedroom's door and found John sitting in bed, phone in hand. He seemed to not have seen her just yet, his gaze transfixed somewhere on the floor. His eyes scared her somewhat; they were empty. He hadn't had a good day. She wasn't surprised.

She tentatively stepped into the bedroom, and he looked up at her. He didn't seem surprised to see her there; he seemed relieved.

"Anna," he breathed, so, so softly. "I didn't know you were coming back today."

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stood, planted in the same spot. "I decided I might as well come back a little early. How are you?"

"I'm fine, I," John started, rather confused. She noticed unshed tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't write today. I'm sorry."

Anna smiled sadly and took a few steps towards him. "I didn't ask about the book."

She took a seat next to him and heard him take a deep breath.

"I just spoke to my ex-wife," he told her quietly as he put the phone away on the bedside table. "She called me to ask me how I was doing. I didn't think she would. Last year, things were so… hazy. It seemed rather surreal that Danny wasn't with us. And this year… this year feels real."

Anna took his hand. "I'm sorry."

"I suppose I should be used to it already," he said, running his free hand through his hair in an exasperated manner. Her heart broke for him. He seemed to be in such an agony. "But I'm not. I keep thinking he'll run through that door and talk about a super hero or a cartoon. Or that I'll see him riding his bike somewhere."

She laced her fingers with his and squeezed his hand. He closed his eyes, with a pained expression on his face.

"I had just taught him how to ride a bike, the day before," he commented as he opened his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. The tears were threatening to fall now. Anna gulped in silence. Her throat still felt dry. "He had been asking me for weeks. That weekend, I taught him. He was so happy."

Anna felt her lower lip quiver. She squeezed his hand again and brought her free one to rest on his forearm. They were sitting rather close. She should have been with him today.

"Susan had come to get him and he was riding the bike in the garden," he sniffed. "We were talking by the door. We never noticed the gate was open. Danny knew he couldn't go out in the street. It all happened so fast," John shook his head. "He couldn't pull the brakes on the bike. He didn't know how yet. I just remember running to get him. It was dark, I saw a car's lights. And then-"

He didn't continue and looked down before closing his eyes. He was shaking now. Anna felt a tear run down her own cheek but controlled herself. Did he blame himself for his son's death? Such a fatality broke her heart. He brought his free hand to cover his eyes. Anna pursed her lips, slowly extracting her hand from his and using both her hands to pull him to her. After a second his arms were around her and he was crying openly, pulling her to him and resting his head against her shoulder. Anna welcomed his embrace; he smelled of soap and shaving cream and of John.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered and he cried a bit harder, squeezing her softly. "I'm here. It wasn't your fault."

She planted a kiss in his hair and held him as tightly as she could, knowing he probably needed some reassurance – someone. As he slowly recovered and tried to explain some of it to her, she found that her own tears were difficult to control and marvelled in his warmth, in how he didn't seem to want to let go of her. He felt like comfort, like home. And she didn't want to let go either.

"I just can't stop thinking of what would have happened if that gate was closed," his voice wavered just a bit. "Or if I hadn't taught him how to ride a bike."

"You can't think of everything that could have happened," Anna told him softly, then cringed at her own words. If only she could take her own advice. "It'll kill you if you keep doing that."

She pursed her lips, deep in thought, as they were now consumed by silence. She was holding his hand and he was staring straight ahead, lost in thought. Anna knew from her own experience it was easier said than done; survival's guilt was a terrible feeling, but she wished he could see that it hadn't been his fault. No wonder he hadn't written much ever since – it must have been such a hard time for him. And he had been alone.

Until now.

"It's late," she commented, making up her mind. "You should sleep."

John looked at her then, looking more lost than she thought he would be. It broke her heart.

"Will you stay?"

She managed a smile. "Of course I'll stay."

He merely lay down, not bothering to change into his pyjamas and Anna took her jacket and her shoes off, climbing onto bed him. He lay on his back, eyes still wide open, and she had a hard time believing he'd sleep right away. She shifted, keeping a respectable space between them, but facing him.

"You said he was with you that weekend," Anna spoke. "How was it?"

A faint smile appeared on his features. "It's all a blur, honestly. But I remember him being happy – he finally knew how to ride a bike. We had ice cream in the afternoon and on Sunday we spent the day playing soccer and he watched cartoons while I wrote. I used to like that – it never bothered me. The cartoons."

Anna smiled. "He was a happy child. You should keep that in mind."

He nodded thoughtfully. "I just… I can't believe I'll never see him grow up. I'll never know what great things he'd have done. I'll never know the fine man he'd become. I feel like a part of me died that day as well."

Unconsciously, Anna crossed the small distance between them just as John shifted to lie on his side. It seemed like a mutual decision and she thought he was finally coming to terms with the fact that maybe he needed her comfort tonight. His arms were around her. She felt his warmth again and it seemed to make her soul yearn for a little more. He kissed her temple. She felt a tingle there.

"Thank you for being here, Anna," he whispered as she snuggled further into his embrace. "Thank you."

She breathed in his scent and nodded, the feeling a bit overwhelming.

He didn't know it, but he was comforting her as much as she was helping him.

And she still didn't want to let go.

* * *

His first thought that day was that he could smell a flowery scent. It was a good scent, one that he had smelt before and calmed him somehow, though in his half-asleep state he couldn't recall where he had smelt that scent before. The room was light; he had forgotten to close the curtains last night. He hadn't opened his eyes yet, though. He was far too comfortable to do that right now.

John had yet to even move when he felt the bed shift just a bit – and the warmth around him shifted too. He felt a hand brush against his forearm and heard a deep breath. _Anna_. He opened his eyes.

She had her head on his shoulder and he had his arms around her, as her hand lay on his chest, just settling there now. She was lying on her stomach and he could see the beautiful features of her face against the light of the room, though he couldn't remember exactly how they got into this position. He had been resting his cheek against her hair and she had shifted closer in her sleep. He vaguely remembered falling asleep holding her – she had been so kind to him the day before. She was a great listener, he already knew that, but she was patient and offered him support. He hadn't realised how much her presence had calmed him down, how much her touch had helped him come to terms with his feelings. He had a long way to go, he knew that, but somehow it seemed easier with Anna.

It caught him unprepared; there was no point in denying it. How she slowly crept into his life. And it had progressed quickly enough – he supposed he could call her a friend. But in some ways it felt wrong – especially right now, with his arms around her and her scent invading his nostrils. It was almost overwhelming, and yet he couldn't bring himself to get up and away from her.

Of course the previous day hadn't been a good one; he had expected nothing less from it. He had been coping in his own way – moping around, drinking – until Susan called. They had both tried to get over the incident in their own ways and it was rare for him to talk to her nowadays. And to talk so openly about Danny, something he hadn't done in over a year, triggered his breakdown.

He could only thank Anna for being there for him.

She stirred and pursed her lips, frowning ever so slightly; she was waking up. Her even breathing faltered just a bit and she yawned; he had to smile at this. She snuggled into him, and he was suddenly very aware of how close their bodies were – he could feel her everywhere. John grew alarmed; he didn't think she was properly awake yet so he squeezed her waist softly. Anna stopped for a moment and brought the hand that was resting over his chest to rub her eyes. She ran her fingers through her hair after a moment – the flowery scent invading him once more.

"We should get up," he tentatively said.

Anna dropped her hand and turned her head, hiding her face into his shoulder. "We should have closed the curtains."

He had to smile at her response; he couldn't even stop his thoughts from forming. She was adorable, and she felt wonderful against him. Too wonderful. Her hair was now splayed all over his chest and he could feel her breathing against his side. He needed to get up, and soon.

"Anna," he said quietly, "I'm going to get up. All right?"

He felt her nod against shoulder and shift just a bit, letting go of him as she reached for a pillow. He missed her warmth almost immediately, but caught himself before he did something he might regret. He heard a grunt as he got up and shook his head at Anna's state. It was still very endearing, though.

He was making coffee when Anna showed up, hair all messed up and clothes creased. She presented him with a soft smile and walked to where he was standing, reaching over for the cabinets to get some food.

"Did you sleep well?" her voice was soft when she spoke.

He had, now that he thought about it. Surprisingly well, despite her beside him. Better than he had slept in a long time.

"I did," he answered simply, "You?"

She nodded. "Sorry I was a bit grumpy back there. I'm not a morning person. It had nothing to do with you."

He smiled. "It's fine."

The next moments were spent in silence as Anna quickly made the tiny breakfast bar presentable with food. It was surprisingly comfortable to have her there, doing such a simple domestic activity after they woke up together just a few minutes ago. It all seemed rather surreal. He knew she'd probably want to talk about his troubles again, and he couldn't blame her for it. In truth, he tried not to over-think about it all. He felt he'd go mad if he did. Their whole relationship was confusing him, and he was quite sure she felt the same. He didn't like it.

They exchanged a smile as she reached for the drawer next to him to get some flatware. He remembered how she had held him and listened to him the day before.

He wouldn't worry about what was going on now; there was no need too. And as he looked at her smile he was quite sure it didn't matter anymore.

He was lost already. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** So, first of all I'd like to make a little announcement concerning the first chapter of this story. I've had several people asking me about it... And I really don't want to tell anyone about it, I really don't want to spoil anything. But you have no reason to be worried - that first scene isn't the ending to the story and we'll actually see it happening from a different perspective soon. I can tell you that, and I hope that helps a little. :)

I'd like to thank everyone who has reviewed the previous chapter, and I really hope you'll enjoy this one as well! I also have a feeling you won't want to miss the next chapter. Important things will be happening very, very soon.

Any feedback is always very much welcome!

* * *

_Chapter Eight_

John carefully balanced two cups of steaming coffee in his hands as he opened the back door. He had to grin at Anna yawning in her seat; she had been reading the same manuscript for three days, and despite her initial saying that it wasn't a bad book, he was quite sure it wasn't a good one either, judging by the way she seemed to get sleepier the more she read.

She looked up surprised when he put one of the cups in front of her, but smiled all the same. She was wearing glasses now – something that had quite surprised him the first time she put them on, a day after her trip to London. She had told him she only wore them for reading – and that she had forgotten them there. He thought she looked adorable.

"I thought you said you'd make tea?" she asked as he sat across from her.

"I thought you could use something a bit stronger," John told her with a smile. "How's this book?"

Anna took a sip of her coffee and hummed in appreciation. He had by now perfected how she liked her coffee. She arched her eyebrows. "Well, let's just say I don't think this will be published."

He had to snicker at this.

"Normally I would have stopped reading this ages ago," she continued, "but I didn't bring many books and I need to make them last until you finish yours."

"You've managed to keep busy so far," John said quietly. "You always bring your little notebook and write. Where's that?"

"I left it at home," she said, referring to the house. "I'll bring it tomorrow. Just in case."

He took a sip of his coffee, eyeing her curiously. He supposed he could ask what it was that she wrote so much; they had talked a lot about silly nonsense over the past three days and he literally had no idea where he would be if it wasn't for Anna. She had stayed with him that night and listened to him in the morning, when he talked some more. Her kindness and gentle manners shouldn't have surprised him, but they did; Anna truly was a beautiful human, inside and out.

He watched as she flicked her eyes over the manuscript, completely uninterested, and took another sip of her coffee. He could ask her, surely she wouldn't mind.

"Should I be worried that you're just here to get writing tips?" he asked in a teasing tone, chancing a look at her. "Are we to be competitors?"

It only took her half a second to understand the meaning of his words, and she smiled softly, letting out a chuckle. She shook her head.

"It's nothing like that," she rolled her eyes, "You'll think it's silly."

Now she had his complete attention. He crossed his arms in front of him and leaned back in his chair.

"I highly doubt it, but go on," he teased, "amuse me."

She rolled her eyes again, then shifted a bit nervously. "Well, I… I did therapy a while ago. When nothing would work to… ease my mind, the therapist would tell me to write it down. Happy memories, important memories. Whatever I wanted, in order to… deal with a loss," she explained, her voice faltering just a bit at the last statement. She coughed. "I carry a notebook with me ever since. Since we're selling the house… I thought I'd try it. Write my memories from this place. Old and recent."

He smiled. He didn't think it was silly at all. It strangely made sense – John knew how Anna loved this place, and how she didn't want to sell; it had yet to happen, but as far as he knew Max had got quite a few offers. No wonder Anna would be worried.

"You think it's silly," Anna stated rather nervously.

He let out a laugh. "No, I don't think it's silly. I think it's a nice way to deal with things. I should try it," a thought occurred to him. He pursed his lips. "I don't suppose I'm in this notebook of yours, am I?"

She looked down at the manuscript, averting his eyes for a second before looking up again with a grin. Was she blushing?

"Yes, you are," Anna said simply. "I've spent a month and a half with you here. Of course you're part of my memories. What a silly question."

Was it, really? He was interested now. What had she written about him?

He gave her a pointed look. "Would you let me read it?"

"Why would I do that?" she replied sassily.

"Well, for starters, I let you read my book," he pointed out with a triumphant grin. "I might be a mess of a writer sometimes, but I am a best-selling author and I haven't published a book in ages. I'm sure some people would love to read this one in advance."

She stared at him, her gaze hard against his. He felt butterflies in his stomach at her intense stare. He shouldn't have asked – it was private. God, she was beautiful – he loved it when she had her hair loose. She would be mad at him for invading her privacy, and he couldn't judge her, not really.

"All right," she said at last, a slow smile appearing on her face, "You can read it if you want to. It's no problem."

"I know it's private," he tried to consider his own question. "I won't read it. I was only joking."

"Right," she narrowed her eyes at him, "I don't see you writing now."

"That's because I'm talking to you," he replied quickly.

She shook her head in an exasperated manner.

"You're infuriating," she smiled. "I'd like to read that chapter tonight, you know."

John took another sip from his coffee and turned to the computer screen, though not before grinning at her. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"I've always liked Orion," she commented, narrowing her eyes as she looked to the sky.

It had been Anna's idea to go stargazing; she told him the lake was a good spot to do so, and that she hadn't done it in years. John appreciated the suggestion. He had been writing a lot lately and a change of scenery might do him good. He knew Anna must have sensed his exhaustion and he felt rather down himself – perhaps from working, perhaps from the emotional wreck that the past week had been.

Talking to Anna helped, more than he could have ever imagined. He had nothing to hide, not anymore, and it made him rather relieved that Anna was willing to keep up with his troubles and even eager to listen. It was all too easy to let it all go – to talk to her, to talk about life before, to talk about another world; to him, who had always been a man of few words, who would never talk to just anyone about himself, it was a rare occasion, but Anna seemed to know how to bring that out in him, and he didn't mind it. It helped; she helped.

They were sitting side by side on a blanket she had brought from the cottage; she had quickly chosen a good spot and the night sky was clear and pretty for an Autumn night. It was quite late in the evening and they hadn't even seen anyone nearby. In fact, John was very glad Anna was around because he wasn't sure if he'd know the way back at night.

She pointed at the constellation in question and he followed her direction. She had her legs stretched in front of her, crossed at her ankles, as she supported herself on her elbows. He was quite content to lean against a tree, just a bit behind her, and sit cross-legged as she went on to talk about her favourite constellations. He could listen to her all day.

"There," she said, "Very easy to spot because of the belt. My grandfather would ask me to point it and I would, but I could rarely make out the constellation beyond the belt."

John chuckled. "But your poor grandfather thought you could see it all."

He could make out Anna's smile in the darkness. "Of course. What was the point in teaching me constellations when I couldn't really see them?"

Another chuckle escaped him. She had been quite good at making him smile these days.

"Any other constellation you can point out to me?" John asked her.

Anna turned her head to look at him with sheepish eyes. "Sorry. I'm not sure I got any better at this after all these years."

He smiled and shifted, lying down beside her and putting both of his hands behind his head for support. Anna remained in her position. He observed the curve of her waist and the movement of her chest for a moment before looking up to the sky.

"Follow the belt of Orion," he told her softly, pointing it out. "See this little group of bright stars on the right? That's Taurus."

He watched as she narrowed her eyes, looking rather confused. It was completely endearing. She let out a laugh.

"I'm sorry, I can't see it," she admitted after a moment. "There are too many little groups up there!"

John chuckled again. "Let's try something else. See the brightest star on the left to Orion?"

"Yeah."

"That's Sirius, part of Canis Major. Mythology says it is one of Orion's dogs who helped him fight Taurus, but there are some other myths surrounding it," he explained. "You do see it, right?"

"I do see it, yes!" she answered in an exasperated manner, lying down beside him. "How do you know this stuff?"

"I took an interest in astronomy while attending university," John told her quietly. "The mythology seemed fascinating and I had always enjoyed stargazing. It was a good hobby. And the girls liked it."

He added the last comment for humour, though it wasn't a lie. Anna shifted a bit, resting on her side, and looked at him with pursed lips.

"So you just used your astronomy knowledge to seduce women?" Anna asked in a teasing tone. "And here I thought you were different from other men."

"I did think it was interesting," he defended himself.

"I do hope you don't think I'm like most women and that I could be seduced by this," she added, her eyes twinkling.

He smiled, but felt his heart leap for a second. This was dangerous territory. He looked at her lips for a second; it would be far too easy to kiss her and taste her. Far too easy…

"I don't think you're like most women," he said sincerely.

They exchanged a smile and he shifted a bit, stretching his right arm in invitation. This was very dangerous territory indeed. Anna came willingly, resting her head on his chest as his arm enveloped her shoulders. One of her hands was brushing against his side. He felt his skin burn in a good way at the contact. She fit her head under his chin and he resisted the urge to kiss her hair. He felt her weight settle into him. He wondered what it would be like to feel her body against his every day and every night. It was far too difficult to imagine his world without her, and that terrified him. This wasn't what he came here for.

"Well, that's a shame," she said in mockery. "I could easily be seduced by that."

He knew she was only joking, but his heart skipped a beat at that. He was glad she seemed to be in a good mood, but he wondered if he could bring up this subject now – them. It was getting more and more difficult to ignore. He was confused, confused by his own feelings and scared, scared by his thoughts and dreams and inappropriate emotions. The last thing he needed was to drag someone else into his troubles, and yet Anna seemed to not mind it.

She laced one of her legs with his, probably to try and get a more comfortable position, and he felt rather than heard her taking a deep breath, snuggling into him. He couldn't ignore this anymore.

"Anna," he breathed, "what are we doing?"

"We're stargazing," she answered quietly, her face still hidden from his view, "Or, rather, trying to. I'm not very good at it but I'm willing to learn."

He nodded, deciding to not say another word. He supposed her answer could be taken for other questions as well.

* * *

The wind was pushing her hair back. She closed her eyes and gave it another push, another strong push against the dirty ground. She was soaring, losing the sensation of being trapped in the ground again. Her feet hit the dirt a moment later. It wasn't working. She wanted to forget, but she wasn't forgetting. She was only remembering. She opened her eyes for a moment and pushed once more against the ground. The swing wasn't working today. She tried to replace her thoughts with recent ones – happy ones. She squeezed her eyes shut.

She was opening a door, entering a flat. She called a name. She walked around a dark corridor, a small corridor – there was a picture broken on the floor. She started walking faster. The wind pushed her hair back again. Swinging wasn't helping at all. She needed to think of something else. But what? She could hear birds singing. Her feet touched the ground again. She heard John's voice. She was alone. She continued swinging. She opened another door. White walls. Blood – dark, red blood.

"Anna?"

She opened her eyes in surprise, alert, and realized she was breathing hard. Her feet touched the ground again and she stopped swinging. John was walking towards her, stopping merely a few feet in front of her. He had a somewhat concerned look on his face.

"John," she breathed almost in relief, looking around them aimlessly. She adjusted her focus and looked up at him. "Hi. Good morning."

"Good morning," his tone was gentle, so gentle, that made Anna's heart ache for a moment. "I looked for you at the house, but I thought you might be here."

He presented her with a small smile. Anna couldn't reply with one of her own. He looked mildly worried.

"What's the matter, Anna?" he asked.

Anna shook her head. "It's… It's nothing. I had a bad night, that's all."

John smiled sympathetically and she took a deep breath. "Just a… really bad dream. That's all."

He crossed his arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," she said a bit too fast, then rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I'm sorry. I'd rather not talk about it. If you don't mind."

"It's all right," he was quick to say. "I'd have nightmares too… Still do occasionally. They've been more infrequent now but they were tough."

He still looked worried. It warmed Anna's heart that he'd be like that to her. After nearly two months in this place, seeing him nearly every day, it was quite amazing how their relationship had progressed, even though it had been frightening her lately.

"It's not really a nightmare," she started. "More like a recurring memory that won't go away. I used to have it almost every week, but I haven't had it in a while. And this time it just… seemed a bit more intense. But I'm fine now."

She risked a smile. His eyes were kind, so kind, and the memory seemed far distant in her mind now. He moved to the other swing, balancing it just a bit before turning around to sit.

"Do you think this old swing will support my weight?" John asked with a boyish grin. He looked adorable.

Anna arched her eyebrows. "You'll only know if you try. It is pretty old, you know."

He sat down carefully, under her watchful stare, then turned to look at her with an accomplished look on his face. He stretched his legs for a second.

And then the rope holding the swing broke and John was suddenly on the ground.

It had happened fast and Anna cringed at the fall, especially when John himself cringed after falling on his butt. When Anna realised he was fine, however, the surprised look on his face was hilarious, and she had to laugh at this. When he sent her an annoyed look, she broke into giggles and tried to stop, but to see him splayed on the ground completely vulnerable had been too funny. He shook his head at her as he stood up, then walked towards her and took her hands, urging her to stand up too. She did so willingly, the warmth of his hands welcoming if only for a moment. She realised a tear had escaped her eye after laughing and wiped it off.

"I'm sorry," she managed to say. "I wasn't expecting that."

"Well, me even less than you. Please don't write that in that notebook of yours," he mumbled, and she giggled again. He chuckled. "You should laugh more, you know? You have a beautiful laugh."

She let out another chuckle, a bit surprised at his comment. Suddenly, she was desperate to feel him – his warmth, his comfort. She took advantage of their proximity and pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you," she said in almost a whisper. "And I'm sorry that you fell."

His chuckle made his chest vibrate and it sent shivers through her body.

"It's fine," he said softly, pulling away just enough to look at her. "Now, I came here to see if you wanted to have breakfast with me in the village. Maybe that will cheer you up?"

She pretended to think about it. "All right, I'm in."

Instead of pulling away, however, he kept his arm around her shoulders as they walked. It was more than comfort, really – it was assurance, and it was friendship. And her heart fell as another possibility crossed her mind.

But it couldn't be… could it?


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: WARNING. This chapter is rated M.** I am not completely sure if I'll change the story's rating because of this one chapter (though there might be more M stuff in the future) so I'll keep it this way so far, unless you think a change of rating is necessary. I'd absolutely love to know your thoughts about this one, for obvious reasons. And thank you so, so much for those who reviewed the last chapter as well. Thanks for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Nine_

She was quiet; she had been quiet all day, ever since he found her at the swings, but it got a bit worse in the evening. John had tried his best to distract her, to make her laugh – he felt he owed her that, since she had been so much help to him. It was almost more than that; he felt unease at her visible saddened state, and helpless because he was unaware of her troubles. He didn't want to ask her again for fear she'd retreat – he had done that too many times in the past. It was saying something that she was still willing to be around him and help him with the book, even though he hadn't written much and it was clear her mind wasn't on it the whole day.

They were currently sitting across from each other in the tiny dining table. He had made them dinner and declined her offer to help. Instead, she had opened a bottle of red wine and he couldn't help noticing she was drinking fairly quickly – which was a bit unlike Anna, from what he could tell. He had drunk too, though only just a glass while having dinner, and another after they cleaned everything; Anna was fidgeting with her now empty glass. The wine bottle was empty too, he noticed. They were in silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable; he wished he could say something, though. He had been trying to get her into a conversation for a couple of minutes now, but she hadn't said much. He suspected her thoughts were crowding her mind. He wished he knew what she was thinking.

Her eyes bore into his, her icy blue eyes intense and questioning; he hadn't realised he had been staring for so long.

"What are you thinking?" she asked at last, her voice soft.

He sighed. "I'm wondering what you are thinking. You've been awfully quiet the whole meal."

Anna shifted nervously in her seat. "It's fine. I'll be fine tomorrow."

She punctuated the last word with a forced smile that broke his heart; her eyes lacked their normal spark.

Empty eyes.

He didn't like it.

"Is this about your nightmare?" he tried. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

She nodded, then rubbed her eyes tiredly. "Yeah, yeah. It's more of a memory, like I've told you. And when it comes back to my mind… it's hard to forget it again. It just makes me feel… rather numb. I'm sorry."

He smiled sympathetically, reaching for her hand in the middle of the table. She watched as he laced their fingers together, and he noticed how she gulped silently and her eyes averted his gaze. He caressed the side of her hand gently with his thumb.

"I'm here for you," he told her quietly, "You know that, don't you?"

She closed her eyes and nodded, squeezing his hand.

"I do. And thank you," Anna said. She blinked then made to stand up. "Have I really drunk all that much? No wonder I feel light-headed," she said lightly, picking the bottle from the table.

He followed her movements with his eyes, cursing himself for noticing the soft sway of her hips as she walked; she was obviously in an emotional state and he shouldn't even be noticing these things.

An idea crossed his mind as Anna returned to get their glasses from the table. He caught her wrist as she made to reach for them.

"You said you feel numb," he stated, "I know how that is. I know of something that might help."

She frowned. "What?"

"We'll have to get our coats."

* * *

"What are you doing?" Anna asked rather surprised as he took off his jacket and let it fall on the pier. "You are not getting inside the water. It's almost winter, you'll freeze!"

He gave her a pointed look, but his smile gave him away. She wondered if he had drunk too much wine. Anna didn't like this, not a bit. He took off his shirt next and she couldn't help but let her gaze wonder to his naked chest, covered in dark hair. She gulped silently. Anna couldn't believe he wanted her to get into the icy water.

"Yes, I am," John told her resolutely, "and you're going with me."

Anna let out a laugh, but it died in her lips soon when he leaned down to take off his shoes and she was rewarded with the sight of his naked back. She bit her lip. This wasn't going very well. His skin was a bit reddish – from the sudden cold, she presumed, as it was a rather cold night – and she ran her eyes over his hair, to his arms – noticing the tattoo once again. She hadn't forgotten about it. She recovered before he could find her staring.

"I'm not getting in there. I'd like to stay alive, thank you," she added sassily. He looked up at her with a grin on his face, straightening up after taking off his socks. There were those big feet again.

"This is the point, Anna," he told her softly. "To feel alive. Isn't it what you want? Isn't it what you _need_?"

She felt her mental protests weaken at this; surely it couldn't be so bad, if he did it every now and then? Surely it could be good, if it made him feel better?

"I'm not sure," Anna said quietly, looking around. Not a soul could be seen. "I don't think I can stand here, though. Perhaps if we went a bit nearer the shore?"

"I can stand here. And you know how to swim, don't you?" he reached for his buckle and Anna's heart skipped a beat as she realised he was taking off his pants. "I'd take off as many clothes as I could if I were you. We'll need them when we get out, otherwise we'll freeze."

Anna took a quick look at the lake, observing the mist forming in the distance. Could she really do it? She thought about it for a second before making up her mind. He was right; she needed this. She needed to feel alive, she needed to feel like herself. And she trusted John. She could do it.

"All right," she agreed, taking off her jacket quickly before she changed her mind. She purposefully ignored John's pants falling onto the pier. "Let's do this."

She shivered when she took off her shirt and the cold air met her warm skin. John had already stripped down to black boxers that she was avoiding – especially when she met his eyes and caught him staring. She unbuttoned her skinny jeans and took them off as well, standing only in knickers and bra; in the back of her mind, she thanked herself for putting on some nice underwear that morning. She chanced a nervous look at John; he was obviously having a hard time keeping his eyes off her. At least he seemed to be in a good mood. She hoped this would make hers better.

"And now?" she asked him, consciously crossing her arms in front of herself.

"We jump," his answer was simple, and he vaguely pointed at the water.

Anna looked around one more time. It was even darker, and there was mist everywhere above the lake. A cold wind reached them and she shivered once more. Her feet were cold too. She could only imagine the temperature of the water. It wasn't inviting at all. She could see some lightning from the distance. It looked like it would rain too. She could only think of reasons not to do this.

John approached her, his arms casually crossed, waiting. She could almost feel his body heat as he stood beside her. She turned to look at him.

"I can't do it," she blurted out of sudden. "It's too cold, I can't-"

Before she could finish the sentence, however, John's big arms enveloped her and she let out a surprised shriek; she could feel his chest against hers and realised she had been lifted from the ground. In the space of only a couple of seconds, in which she managed to reach for his neck to get a proper hold of him, he jumped them both into the water.

The next thing Anna felt was cold – plain, icy cold, piercing every inch of her body. Her head felt heavy and she let go of John, moving her arms to swim but feeling even colder. A new rush of water seemed to have met her middle and she gasped underwater at the coldness. Finally, she moved her arms again, and reached the surface, taking a deep breath and shrieking a little. She couldn't stand, so she moved her legs in unison and opened her eyes suddenly, finding John merely a few feet from her.

"You're insane!" she said loudly, very mad at him for having made her come here. "I told you I couldn't do it!"

He was absolutely drenched as well, of course, and merely smiled at her response. His breathing was coming in fumes because of the low temperature and she imagined hers was too. He had definitely drunk too much, if he wasn't bothered by all of this. Perhaps she had, too. She splashed him some water.

"I'll freeze in the next five minutes if you don't help me out!" she told him sternly.

Silently, he swam the short distance between them and reached for her. "Come here."

She went willingly, simply because her chin had started quivering from the cold. He was standing, just barely, and he slipped his arms on her waist, pulling her closer to him – closer than they had ever been before. His body heat certainly eased her discomfort, and she chose to hold on his shoulders, pressing up against him. His chest's movements of breathing crashed against hers but she was slowly getting used to the temperature of the water and their position wasn't uncomfortable at all.

"Better?" he asked rather sweetly, and she simply couldn't scold at him.

Her chin stopped quivering. She nodded and rested her forehead on his shoulder. She took a deep breath. Her muscles tingled and her limbs were complaining, but surprisingly, she wasn't feeling any pain. Slowly adapting to that temperature, she strangely felt stronger – alive, maybe, or simply aware of her own mortality. John's hands were drawing lazy, soothing circles on her back – it felt good. She took a deep breath and squeezed his shoulders softly. He responded by tightening his grip on her waist. She pulled away just enough to look at him.

"It's not so bad anymore," she whispered. He shook his head in agreement. His hair was all wet and cold droplets of water were falling from it. Their faces were just a few inches from each other. "I still think you're crazy, though."

He chuckled. "Of course you do. But you're as crazy just to have followed me here. You'll thank me later."

She shook her head, very much aware that their noses were almost touching now. "I'll thank you now. I feel… I can almost hear my blood running through my veins. I haven't felt like this in… I don't know how long."

He glanced at her lips expectantly and she noticed he licked his. She mimicked his action. She took another deep breath and felt the friction between their chests, sending her a thrill. One of her hands moved from his shoulder to the back of his neck, feeling his cold, soft hair against her fingers. One of his moved to grip her hip tighter. Her legs felt a bit uncomfortable. His eyes darkened.

"Me neither," he mumbled in agreement before their lips met each other.

She'd have thought his lips would have been warm, but they were cold against hers, tentative but at the same time insisting; after a moment, he slipped his tongue inside, meeting hers, and a thrill of excitement ran through her body, marvelling in the feel of him. She moved one of her hands to his chest and gently stroked him there, just as she felt his hands on her hips, pulling her even closer to him. She felt one of his hands running over her thighs and bringing her knees up, parting her legs and prompting them to shift and pull even closer.

She moaned when his mouth left hers, and again when he planted kisses and sucked the skin underneath her ear. His stubble felt rough against her skin, but it didn't bother her. Suddenly, despite being outside and in the cold, Anna felt warmer and the air seemed heavy around them. She pulled back a bit, allowing him more access into her neck, and grasped her feet together at his hips.

She let his hands wander around her body, thoroughly enjoying the attention; suddenly, it didn't matter to her where they were or what they were doing – she was positive she had never felt better in her life and she was desperate to keep the feeling going longer – to feel, to sense.

At her insistence, he pulled away from her and she attacked his mouth again, desperate for more contact. She felt his hands on her behind and rocked her hips ever so slightly, on pure instinct. She got lost in their kiss and felt his hand travel up to where her bra was, just as his hips rocked against hers. His mouth was strong and firm against hers and she swallowed a moan as his hand finally found the clasp of her bra…

Until a loud thunder broke them apart, and they both looked alarmingly at the sky. The clouds were definitely gathering together and they saw lightning strike not far from them. They breathed heavily – their breaths mingled. John looked at her.

"We should go back to the cottage before the rain catches us," he said quickly, and Anna merely nodded.

He walked them closer to the pier and helped Anna up, the cold air now clashing with the cold water dripping off her. She shivered. John followed and stood up, gathering their clothes as she did the same. Another lightning followed by a loud thunder startled them once more and it was clear it wouldn't take long for the rain to get there.

"We can get dressed in the cottage," John told her, grasping her hand and tugging her along with him. "Come on."

Not two seconds later they were off to the stone path that led to the cottage, and Anna was thankful it was so close to the lake. She had felt two large rain drops on her face and heard more thunder just as John opened the door to the cottage for her, and she slipped inside, its inviting warmth quickly overcoming her. She was suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that she was standing there in nothing but her underwear, especially when John locked the door and turned to look at her. She was using the clothes she was holding to cover a bit of herself up, but she noticed his eyes flickering over her legs for a quarter of a second – it didn't bother her, quite the contrary. She had been doing her fair share of staring too.

"Right, do you want to take a bath or–" John started, while reaching for the switch. The lights remained off. "Seems like we've lost power."

"Probably because of that first lightning strike," Anna commented. It was rather odd, really, that now that she was warmer and more comfortable her limbs were feeling a bit numb. "We could go to the house to have a warm bath, I suppose, but it's already raining."

"And enough of us running half-naked around," John commented, and she had to chuckle. "I'll get us some towels."

Anna nodded in agreement, watching as he walked away. She couldn't help but think of how close they had been in the lake – of how he felt against her. She gulped in silence and looked away, wondering what would have happened if they hadn't been interrupted by the storm. Her lips still tingled from being kissed but she felt terribly empty now, away from the icy water and his inviting embrace.

She noticed her clothes were absorbing the droplets of water down her body and she cursed mentally, walking further into the living room to put them on the couch, careful to not leave the floor very wet, though it was difficult to do so. The living room was much warmer than the hall and the fireplace illuminated it, giving it a very welcoming feeling. She stopped between the fireplace and the couch, trying to relax. She still felt a bit light-headed, probably from the wine. Anna sighed and closed her eyes, trying to understand what happened in the last twenty minutes. It was all a blur already – but she could remember very vividly his touch and his kisses. She felt a bit disoriented, if she was honest with herself. Sure, it had been a while since she was with a man, but that still didn't explain why she felt this way towards him; she had been very sincere when they were in the lake together – she had never felt like this before.

Anna was startled when she felt two familiar hands on her shoulders, warming her through the layer of clothing that now enveloped her shoulders. She smiled and leaned instinctively into his touch as he lingered his hands there for longer than necessary. A thrill of excitement rushed through her when his hands descended upon her arms before letting go of her. His touch was like fire.

She turned to look at John, and he smiled softly at her. He reached for a small towel on his neck to dry off his hair a little bit; he had another towel wrapped around his waist, and Anna felt a slight bit of disappointment at that – she had been growing rather fond of the black boxers.

She started to dry off her hair first.

"You still think that was a good idea?" John asked her.

Anna smiled. "I never said it was a good idea."

He chuckled, and it was low and husky and she shivered a bit at this. She moved the towel from her hair and started to dry off her chest. She saw John's eyes flicker over her again and felt suddenly hot. She chanced a look at him. They were standing close to each other, she noticed. His breath was mingling with hers and she could feel the heat from his body again, drawing her in.

The feeling was unknown to her, and even though she had given in a few minutes ago, it was as if all the walls she had built around her all that time ago were crumbling down at her feet – and he couldn't even know he was the cause of it.

She desperately wanted to feel it again, though – the thrill, the excitement, the blood rushing in her veins, her heart beating loudly again. He had promised her she'd feel alive when she went to the lake, and she wondered if he was the one that made her feel so alive, so mortal, so redeemed. She desperately needed to feel his soft touch and his lips and his warmth – and she didn't want to let go this time.

Before she could ponder this any longer, however, his lips were on hers and it took her a moment of surprise to get used to it. It was all too easy to give into the sensation of his warm mouth against hers and to feel his hands brushing against her waist. Just as she opened her mouth to allow him more access, however, he pulled away.

"Anna, I'm sorry," he said quickly while she opened her eyes alarmingly. "I shouldn't have-"

She shook her head and frowned. "Don't apologise. Don't _ever_ apologise," she insisted, reaching to clasp her hands together at the back of his neck. She briefly acknowledged her towel falling at her feet. "And please, _don't stop_."

She was the one to pull him closer now, and he gave into the deep kiss after no more than a second. He was gentle at first, his touch feeling like feather against her skin, but she wanted more, she needed to feel more. She ran her hands over his chest and marvelled at his strong solidness – this was really happening. Her own movements made him feel bolder and it wasn't long until his hands were everywhere, his touch igniting a fire within her she hadn't felt in a long time. A thunder could be heard as the world seemed to be pouring down outside, but this time they didn't stop. _And God, she hoped he'd never stop_.

Her heart was thumping against her chest and she was sure John could hear it, or at least feel it. He had pulled away from her mouth to kiss her jaw and neck and Anna was slowly getting lost in the feel of his lips against her skin. His stubble felt rather harsh against her, to the point where she was almost sure it'd bruise a little bit at her neck, but it was all rather enticing and she couldn't help the moan that escaped her throat. She managed to get rid of the towel around his waist and toyed with the waistband of his boxers as he pulled her closer to him. He let out a hoarse moan when she planted wet kisses along his neck and sucked in the sweaty spot on the hollow of his throat ever so slightly, ever so teasingly.

"God, Anna, the things you make me feel," John said hoarsely, sending shivers throughout her body.

John kept running his hand over her thighs until he skilfully reached for her knee and she willingly bent it so she was half-leaning towards him, resting her knee by his hip. His hands continued to explore, and she was lost, falling deeper and deeper with each touch and each moan. His chest hair felt smooth against the palm of her hands and the water from both their bodies was quickly mingling with each other's and sweet sweat. One of his hands cupped one of her breasts and she had to smile throughout her soft moan as he grunted at it still being clothed. His other hand, still exploring her thighs in an almost meticulous manner, surprised her in a very good way when it came to cup her through her knickers, his fingers tentative, teasing, and she had to bit her lip to keep from crying out. Her hands were suddenly grasping at his broad back, and her hips rocked instinctively against his hand. Another loud thunder followed.

It was sweet torture, really, for his fingers deftly abandoned her to fight with the clasp of her bra a second later. She pulled away to help him remove the offending item and sighed when his hands cupped her breasts, massaging them softly. God, his touch was sending her over the edge with the simplest moves.

She threw her head back, moaning at his ministrations while swiftly moving her hands down to his boxers once more, cupping him through the material and running her hand over his length. That seemed to undo John, and things happened quickly after that – he reached for her other knee and she moved her hands to his neck for balance, exchanging a confused look with him. His eyes were dark and he smiled wolfishly at her.

"We need somewhere more comfortable," he said softly before planting a kiss on her jaw and laying them both onto the floor.

His hands were gentle and light again, teasing her with slow caresses now, and she grunted rather impatiently at this, earning a chuckle from him. The sound of his heavy breath mingled with hers and the tinkling fire merely a few feet away and the rain outside, but she could only care about John, about what he was doing to her. It was sweet and confused and so, _so_ _good_, and she desperately wanted more, needed more. She gasped when he sucked in her earlobe ever so softly, his lips setting her on fire. She squirmed beneath him, impatience quickly sending her over the edge. She wanted more. She needed more.

She ran her hands over his torso, from his broad shoulders to his waist, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin on her palms. She tried not to think – only feel. It was far too consuming to be thinking now, and she had never felt like this before – no one had ever made her feel like this before. He was occupied with her breasts now, making her moans grow a little bit louder, but she still managed to trail her hands down on his body, stopping at his boxers.

John groaned against her skin when she cupped him through the material of his boxers; he was hard and hot and she gasped at his own ministrations on her body, feeling heat pool down between her legs. She ran her hand over his length and he bucked against her, a moan escaping his lips.

"Anna," he breathed heavily, pulling away and capturing her mouth in a kiss again.

Before she could even react, John was pulling away from her body and she groaned in disappointment at the loss of contact. As he stripped out of his boxers and kneeled between her legs, he planted a wet kiss over her bent knee and his eyes were silently asking for permission. Anna sucked in a breath and nodded almost weakly. She was entirely at his mercy.

John's hands grazed against her thighs and stopped at her knickers, and she moved her hips up to help him take them off; not two seconds later, he was covering her body, and she gasped out loud when she felt his skin, all over her. His hands adjusted her against him, moving down her body in a slow, torturing manner that made Anna squirm. She needed him.

She gasped in pleasure when she felt his fingers on her, tentative, slow, and so, _so_ good. She whispered his name and shifted a little under his touch. Anna watched as he licked her lips before kissing her again, hard and passionate. She couldn't take this anymore. She wanted to feel him – all of him.

Her hands reached for his face and her fingers were soft and lingering on his cheeks and temples before going to his soft, wet hair. His gaze was locked on hers and she rocked her hips slowly, indicating what she wanted. He took his fingers away, running his hand over her body and making her shiver. He hissed at her movements, closing his eyes for a second before moving his hands from her shoulders to hover over her sides and hips, bringing her closer to him, aligning herself with him.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still as they looked at each other; no turning point after this. Rain was hard outside, to the point that the lightning could create shadows of them even with the curtains drawn. She kissed him softly, almost innocently, and nodded in encouragement.

A rather long moan followed when he joined them, and Anna hadn't known herself to be so vocal and yet didn't ponder on it for more than a second longer than necessary. His movements were slow, so terribly, achingly slow, as she adjusted to his presence in her body. It had been such a long time, but Anna was sure it had never felt this good before.

They settled into a rhythm after a few seconds, their breaths mingling between kisses and moans and groans. Her hands had stopped at his shoulders, grasping at them and she laced her legs together around his waist, crying out at the sudden sweet pressure in her core. John moaned, his lips just beside her ear, his hips moving faster than before.

Somehow, in the middle of it all, he managed to take one of her hands and kiss the back of it, lacing their fingers together beside her head. She was having trouble keeping her eyes open, and she was squirming under his movements, pleasure building quickly inside of her. She whispered his name almost reverently.

He leaned down and kissed her languidly, then rested his forehead against hers. She opened her eyes and was instantly met with his gaze. She could hear nothing but their heavy breathing, feel nothing but his skin against hers, and strengthened her grip on his hand and his back, crying out at her release a second later – she felt only him, smelled only him, tasted only him, and she was completely, absolutely lost in him.

John was still moving against her when she regained her awareness back, and did her best to match his fast rhythm, even though she hadn't yet completely recovered; she kissed him then, slowly and passionately, and he pulled away to rest his head beside hers, groaning hoarsely against her ears, sending shivers throughout her body. She was vaguely aware of loud thunder outside. Her name was like a mantra on his lips, and soon he shuddered against her, emptying himself and collapsing on top of her.

They breathed heavily for a couple of moments, neither saying a word. Anna moved one of her hands to his hair and ran her fingers through it, sighing contently but feeling an unexplainable rush of emotion invade her. She felt John lips against her ear and tears in her eyes, though she had no idea why. Her skin felt sticky against his and he made to move from her, but she still had him trapped in her legs. _He couldn't leave her._ Not now. She wasn't ready to let him go right now.

"Let's just… Let's just stay like this a bit longer," her voice was weak when she spoke, but she was still maintaining control of her tears.

John turned to look at her, sensing something wasn't right, and his eyes were worried when they met hers. She smiled.

"Anna?"

"Just a little overwhelmed," she managed to say, kissing his lips softly before sighing. "That's all."

He kissed her temple tenderly before peppering her face with soft kisses, obviously buying her explanation.

Somehow, it hadn't felt like the truth to her.


	10. Chapter 10

**_Warning: This chapter deals with violence and adult language._**

* * *

_Chapter Ten_

She opened a door and walked into a bright kitchen, throwing the keys on the counter before drinking a glass of water. She called a name. No one answered. She frowned and reached for her mobile inside her purse and dialled a number; after few seconds she could hear a phone ringing inside the house. She walked out of the kitchen, into the empty living room. Her heart was racing. She called a name again. No answer.

She walked down a dark corridor. A picture was on the floor, broken. She could see the happy smiles of a couple, looking at the camera. She walked faster, checking the bedroom but there was no one there. She frowned. Her heart was beating out of her chest. She could hear her own racing heartbeats as she walked faster, and opened another door.

White walls. Blood – dark, red blood. Her heart skipped a beat.

Anna opened her eyes.

She blinked against the soft light of the fireplace and frowned; still breathing heavily, images from her dream so vivid in her mind, she struggled to form a coherent thought. Her limbs ached when she shifted to lie on her back and she closed her eyes again, vowing to stop the tears that already stung in the back of her eyes from falling. She brought her hand to cover her eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to forget the images; she couldn't take having the same dream – the same memories – haunt her two nights in a roll. She gulped silently. And felt a hand on her stomach – her bare stomach.

She opened her eyes at once, images from a few hours prior slowly coming to her. Touches and caresses and kisses that made her alive, made her feel good – made her forget. _John_.

Anna turned her head and took in the sight of him. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully, light snores escaping his nose. Her eyes travelled downwards to his chest, before the blanket covered him. He must have put it over them after she slept; she couldn't even remember falling asleep. It was all rather hazy in my mind and she took a deep breath to try and get her thoughts organized. The air around her felt stuffy. She couldn't believe it had happened – she and John. This wasn't what she had planned – it shouldn't have happened. She stifled when his hand caressed her stomach to stop at her waist; his palm felt hot on her skin. Flashes of what had happened filled her mind: his hands around her body, his hot kisses, the feeling of him inside her…

Anna gulped. She felt suffocated. She suddenly felt trapped. Tears were threatening to fall but she had been quiet and slow enough to get away from him without waking John; the cold air hit her body, which felt rather sticky – she thought about the lake, the rain and the lovemaking afterwards – and she tiptoed in the dark to find her clothes. She quickly got dressed, and was out of the door after less than two minutes.

* * *

John opened his eyes slowly, finally awaking from slumber. He stared at the pale ceiling of the living room for a moment before moving his gaze to his side. Anna wasn't there. He frowned, but wasn't surprised. He took a deep breath. Had they really made love? That was never in his plans. He should have stopped her, but in truth… he hadn't wanted to. He had never tasted kisses like Anna's, and a simple touch from her seemed to ignite a fire within him. She had begged him to not stop – and he hadn't. And now she wasn't there.

They hadn't talked much after everything happened, but she hadn't seemed very well. She clung onto him afterwards, settling her head on his shoulder and embracing him, and it felt so good to be in her arms it hadn't taken long for him to succumb to sleep. She seemed troubled, but hadn't wanted to talk about it, so he didn't insist. Maybe he should have stopped. He remembered hesitating, silently asking her permission to continue, but she never changed her mind. Not for the first time, he wondered what had happened in the past to make her the woman she was today.

Making up his mind, John sat up, cringing at his muscles protesting against the unusual setting. He couldn't remember the last time he had slept on the floor. He ran his fingers through his hair and blinked heavily. He groggily stood up and looked around; Anna seemed to not be inside the cottage. He went into the bedroom, half hoping she had decided to go to bed, but its emptiness made him worried. He dressed quickly and looked outside to see that the rain had stopped. Deciding it was still rather late – or early, depending on one's point of view – he grabbed an old coat and left.

A while later John found himself walking slowly by the lake; he hadn't managed to find Anna. He supposed she had gone for a walk. She hadn't been inside the house – unless she had ignored him there – or by the swings, so after trying the obvious places, he decided to go back to the cottage. His steps, however, took him to the lake, and he stopped by the pier, the very same one they had been only a few hours ago. The air was chilly and there was more mist than before. At least the storm seemed to be long gone now.

He sighed heavily. He was worried about Anna. He knew enough to know that she wasn't in a good place right now. He wanted to help her – she had helped him so much in the previous months. It was thanks to Anna alone that the book was going to be finished by Christmas – and she was the one to comfort him and help him overcome his own personal demons. If only she could open up to him.

He feared what happened between them now would change all that they had achieved. As much as he worried, he didn't regret it. Anna changed him, inside and out – with her gentle words and her bossiness and their conversations. She made her way into his life in such a slow manner that he hadn't even seen it happening until it had.

His gaze focused on the pier in front of him and he breathed in the chilly early morning air. It was getting a bit brighter. He closed his eyes. He could almost breathe in her scent, if he thought about it. He'd give her time. She probably just needed some alone time to gather her thoughts. It had happened so suddenly and he was sure it took them both by surprise.

He put his hands in the coat's pockets in an attempt to stay warm, but his right hand was met with cold metal. He opened his eyes and frowned.

He took the gun out of the pocket and shook his head; he couldn't believe he had left it there. He had been all too used to nightly walks when he first arrived here. Longs walks followed by a swim in the lake; after the first days with failing writing, he had taken to explore the place – the cottage and the gardens and the lake. He quickly discovered Max's fondness of guns, and now he understood how it could have been a danger back then.

The gun felt heavy in his hands. Heavier than it had ever felt. More than once he had brought it with him – more than once it had been present, a constant reminder of mortality in his pocket. More than once he seriously thought about actually using it.

Anna changed that.

If he did it, would people miss him? Would Anna miss him?

She wouldn't understand, he thought with a bittersweet smile. She'd never understand. The revolver felt even heavier in his hand. It glistened in the pale moonlight. He took a look at the cylinder. It was empty; he remembered emptying it the night after meeting Anna. It had been the last time he had seriously considered this. He put the cylinder back in the gun, and shifted his gaze to it. It would have been quite simple, he figured. A simple way to end it all. Could he do it?

No, he couldn't. He had never pulled the trigger before. There were always bullets before. He raised the gun to his temple. How would it feel, to actually pull the trigger? He knew it was empty, and yet his heart was beating fast now. He pulled the trigger. A quiet click reached his ears. He heard a scream.

His heart kept beating fast.

He turned in his spot, trying to find out the source of the scream. A small hill right beside the lake could be seen and there, just a few feet from him and bathed in the moonlight, he saw her.

Anna.

It was hard to see her in the dark, but he could make out her silhouette and he lowered the gun, unsure of what to do. She was walking – no, she was running – towards him, and he could barely make out her fast words as she approached him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" her voice was quiet, but strong. He didn't understand. Did she think he was going to kill himself? The gun was already loose in his hand, but she seemed to be in some kind of stupor. She reached for his hand with surprising ability and took the gun from him, throwing it into the lake after a second. She was breathing hard. "What in the bloody hell's name are you doing?"

"Anna, I wasn't-"

"We can talk about it. You've got a lot better lately, and I didn't think you'd come to this, and I… I won't let you, and if you could just give me the gun…"

"Anna, it's fine," he reached for her. He noticed her eyes were glistening.

"I can't believe you," she said with a louder voice. "How could you? After everything we… I can't let you do this. I can't go through this again, I thought I could, but I can't, and I've tried to help you and I can't let you do this, I can't lose you, I just can't-"

"Anna, I wasn't planning on killing myself," he said, worried about her. She didn't seem to be listening to him. "There were no bullets!"

A look of realisation crossed her face, but instead of making it better, he saw the tears fall from her eyes for the first time that evening. She gasped, and covered her mouth with her hand, staring at the gun intently. She closed her eyes.

"Why did you have a gun with you?" her voice was strangely calm when she spoke again. She opened her eyes. He saw anger in them – sorrow and concern too. "Why would come here and raise an empty gun to your head?"

"I had the gun in the coat's pocket," John tried to explain just as he took a step in her direction and reached for her. "I used to bring it here in a drunken stupor and-"

"Stop it!" Anna said, pushing him away with surprising strength. "Guns aren't toys, John," she clenched her teeth. "I thought you were… God damn it, John, I thought you were going to shoot yourself!"

Her voice was loud now, and he thanked the early hours for them being alone there. Her eyes were fiery against his, and she was breathing hard. He noticed she was wearing the coat he wore last night.

"Bloody hell," she breathed, bringing her hands to her hair. He noticed she was trembling. He tried to reach for her, but she shook her head to stop him. Her eyes were hard against his, and he saw her gulp back a sob a bit unsuccessfully. "Please don't do that again. I don't care what you say_, don't fucking do that again_. I hate that, and I hate you for doing this right now, and I can't… If you ever feel like doing that, I need you to talk to me, because I want… But I'm not sure if I can – if I can go through this again, I can't. I'm not ready. I'm sorry, I'm not-"

"Anna," he interrupted her, her fast words quickly accessing his brain. He wouldn't ponder over them now. "Come here."

"I'm not ready for this," she said again, a sob finally escaping her. "I thought I was, but I am not. I can't lose you – please, don't make it happen. I'd hate you if… Please-"

He stepped closer to her and this time ignored the shake of her head; he enveloped her in his arms and held her close, and she immediately sobbed harder against him, even though her hands had formed into fists and were hitting him in the chest in anger. She wriggled a little under his embrace, but felt her weaken after a few seconds. He could feel her shaking.

"Please, don't leave me," he heard her say as her hands clutched at the shirt he wore underneath his coat. "I can't lose you that way, don't make me lose you. Please, _John_."

Her body was shaking harder by the time she stopped speaking and he tried to calm her down, but it was difficult to do so. Incoherent phrases escaped her every now and then and he kissed her temple, whispering that he was there for her, even though he had no idea what she was on about; a million of possibilities crossed his mind as he drew slow, soothing patterns against her back in an attempt to stop her sobs, and none of these possibilities seemed very good to him; he thought about everything that had happened in the past few weeks and how she had always managed to be there and make him feel better.

And as she continued to sob against his chest, her cries still piercing the early morning air, he wondered if he could make her feel better like she had done with him.

* * *

Anna sighed as she sat on the bed, next to the bedside table, feeling more tired than she had felt in a long time. John had managed to take her back to the cottage and calm her down for a bit, and yet she still felt so empty – and so scared. She gulped silently and rubbed her eyes. He had scared her to no end.

She had returned to the cottage to find it empty, and thought that maybe John could be by the lake, as she knew he liked to venture there sometimes. When she had spotted him and could make out his silhouette – along with a gun – she found that she had no voice. She hadn't even realised he had lowered the gun until she finally took it from him. It was a scene she never thought she'd live, and she desperately wanted to forget it now; to see John that way, to know that he could take himself away from this world, it didn't do her good.

She had needed some air, some space to come to terms with what had happened, and now more than ever she was sure that things would change between them. It scared her – it was made her afraid and even unwilling to risk anything, but when she looked at him all the uncertainty seemed to be gone. He was never just a writer to her – he was always so much more, from the start. And now, more than ever.

He had taken her back to the cottage and offered to make them some tea. He tried to get her to talk, but she didn't want to. She knew it was inevitable, really, that he was in the position to want some answers and she wanted to give him honest ones, but she wasn't sure if she could after the scare she had suffered when she saw him by the lake. She had felt helpless, vulnerable and with no strength to help him, and while her mind told her to just leave this place – leave this troubled man, leave this whole situation – she couldn't; she only found comfort in his arms – in his warm, very much alive arms, with his calming embrace and his familiar scent all around her. She couldn't leave him, and she hoped he wouldn't leave her – not in that manner.

She just couldn't go through this again.

At her silence, he suggested a warm shower, and she agreed to it; she felt agonized and empty in her own skin, and she felt sticky and desperate to wash the tears away. Her eyes were still red and puffy when she was finished, but it was invigorating all the same, though she felt tired, very tired; exhausted, actually. She had found some neatly folded clothes on the bed, as John had told her he'd try and find some comfortable clothes for her to wear. She put them on, which included a pair of boxer briefs, an oversized t-shirt and a pair of pants that could only hold themselves together in her waist because of the elastic band. His t-shirt smelled faintly of him, and she had to smile at this. She might not be a vision from heaven, but he had succeeded in making her comfortable. Like she had thought he would.

A sigh from the doorway made her look up to see John standing there with a worried look on his face. He smiled softly at her when he met her gaze.

"You look a thousand times better in my clothes than I do," he commented, obviously in an attempt to lighten up the situation.

She had to smile, albeit weakly. "I doubt that."

He leaned against the doorway and shot her a concerned look.

"I made some tea, if you'd want some," he took a deep breath. Anna shook her head. He pursed his lips. "I feel like I need to properly explain myself to you."

"You don't have to," Anna quickly said, "If anyone needs to explain anything, that's me."

He shook his head again, his eyes gentle and kind, so kind that it surprised her. She lowered her gaze to the floor as he sat beside her, but not quite touching her yet.

"I don't know what came over me," he started quietly. "I used to take walks there. You know that. And I did bring the gun with me. That happened before you came here," she looked up and saw him running his fingers through his hair. "I found the gun in the coat's pocket. I knew it was empty, and I just… wondered how it was, to finally listen to click of the trigger. It was foolish, and I knew nothing would happen, but I did it anyway. And then I heard you."

He took a deep breath and blinked.

"I won't say I never contemplated suicide. Because I did. But I was never suicidal," he started again, "I could never be suicidal, especially now. Especially since I met you."

She felt his warm skin against hers and looked down to see his hand on top of hers, gentle and almost hesitating. A thrill of comfort rushed through her and she slowly turned her hand, reaching for his after he retreated, obviously thinking his touch had been unwanted. _Never unwanted. _She laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a light squeeze. She watched their fingers; they fit together almost perfectly, even if his hands were so much bigger than hers. They simply fit.

"I'm sorry I left the cottage, earlier," she started. Her voice sounded incredibly small, even to her own ears, but she needed to say it. "I needed to think. I… I suppose it shouldn't feel like it was sudden. Because it wasn't. But I… well, it's been years since this happened to me, and I felt… unprepared somehow."

"I'm sorry, I..." he started.

She reached for his lips and placed one finger over them, silencing him. She traced his skin softly. He was such a good man.

"Don't apologise, I knew what I was doing," she told him. "I suspect it was more of my doing than yours," she gave him a weak smile and shrugged before taking a deep breath. "But I don't regret it. Despite everything, even if it meant nothing or if it won't matter, I-"

"It meant something," his quiet voice interrupted her, "You know it meant."

She met his eyes and her heart skipped a beat. His hand gave hers a gentle squeeze. She needed to tell him. She knew she needed to.

"The truth is," Anna started, taking a long, deep breath. "The truth is that I was engaged before."

She chanced a look at John; he expressed no surprise. She took it as her chance to continue, but instead paused for a second. She hadn't talked about this in months, and it rarely got any easier. She tightened her grip on his hand. This was John. This was all right.

"His name was Colin. We met in the university," she explained, not sure where to start. "He was… my first real relationship. My best friend. And four years ago, he asked me to marry him and I accepted," Anna said, rubbing her forehead as the familiar memories came back to her. "We were organising the wedding when he got fired. I offered him to drop everything. I never… I never really cared about it all, if I'm honest. When I think about it, I don't even know why we were doing it." She let out a bitter laugh. "He'd have none of it. Said I deserved the perfect wedding. He never managed to find another job, and things got difficult.

"He was distant. Sometimes we barely talked at all. He'd just agree with whatever thing I had chosen for the wedding," Anna lowered her gaze to the floor. Her throat felt dry. She gulped. "He even went to a psychiatrist. Took some meds. But every day… I felt as if he was slipping away from me and I couldn't do anything. I was completely powerless."

Her voice broke as she stopped talking and she gulped down a sob, closing her eyes for a moment to take a break. She had spoken few times about what had happened, and never in so many details. It felt achingly agonising. She took another deep breath. John's silence meant that he didn't want to push her, but she needed to finish it now.

"He had tried to end our relationship countless times," Anna carefully chose the words. "I never accepted it. He was such a good man. He had such a promising future. But he… he took it all away," tears escaped her eyes, but she ignored them and continued speaking, "I was the one who found him. He used a gun – he was almost unrecognisable. There was blood everywhere, and I… I couldn't do anything. I didn't do anything to help him. All I got left was a note."

She closed her eyes again and rubbed her forehead, as if doing this would wipe the memories away; she could only remember the frustration, the sorrow, along with the smell of blood against tile walls and horrid images to accompany it.

But as if to try to erase all the bad thoughts, she felt John's hand leaving hers and his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her to him; her hand felt empty but only for a second before he took it with his free hand, and she willingly accepted his embrace and his warmth and his scent as she sobbed for the second time that say against him, this time fully accepting his comfort for what it was.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and she knew he meant more than just about what had happened earlier. "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and pulled away to look at him, controlling her sobs just enough to speak but not stopping the tears from falling. "Just promise me you'll never leave this world like that. Without fighting. Please, promise me."

He nodded slowly, gently cupping her cheek. "As long as I have something to fight for, yes. And I do have that."

She gave him half a smile and met his lips in a somewhat crushing kiss; it wasn't passionate or deep, but she felt his strength through it, his assurance, the certainty he always transmitted to her, and she was glad he seemed to read her thoughts better than herself. They pulled away a few seconds later and she buried her head against him, right at the place where his neck met his shoulder and it seemed to fit perfectly against her. She breathed in deeply, feeling his solid body against hers and cried – because they were alive, because she felt relieved for having opened up and because, for the first time, her heart seemed ready for a second chance.

* * *

**A/N:** See, I told you there was nothing to worry about! Well, kind of. Let me know what you think. John and Anna still have a lot of healing to do... And they have yet to discuss the difference the previous night made in their lives. Reviews are always very much welcome!

Thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Second to last scene could be rated as M, so you've been warned. You might want to listen to Unchained Melody at some point in this chapter too. ;)

* * *

_Chapter Eleven_

The bed was warm and Anna was feeling way too comfortable to open her eyes just yet. The previous day and night had been exhausting and draining and she had been more than glad to escape into sleep with John beside her a few hours earlier, she supposed. She wasn't exactly ready to check the clock just yet. The curtains were closed today, apparently, as it still seemed rather dark around her. She let out a sigh and shifted so she was lying on her back. She pulled the blanket closer to her. She really was very comfortable.

She heard a click in the distance but in her half-asleep state didn't even bother to open her eyes. In fact, she barely even remembered falling asleep, so exhausted she was. She remembered John had left for a moment and she vaguely remembered waking up to him joining her, only to fall asleep in the next second. She heard another noise – the cabinet was being open. Reluctantly and still cocooned on the warm bed, she opened her eyes.

She was met with John's broad naked back as he obviously looked for a t-shirt. She decided she wouldn't mind waking up to that every morning. Anna blinked heavily. There was some light peeking through the curtains but not much; she wondered what time was it. A tinge of disappointment ran through her when John put on a purple shirt, still with his back to her. She stretched languidly in bed. His hair was wet and she could smell soap, even when he was some few feet away from her. He opened another drawer.

She had to smile at his slow movements, obviously trying not to wake her, and couldn't help but think about the night before – of them, together; of how feelings long forgotten – and some newly discovered – surfaced and for the first time, she completely gave into them, unable to resist the closeness, the intimacy, the _comfort_.

But had it only been comfort, really? They were friends, before anything, really. And she felt deeply for him, more than she felt for anyone before – maybe even Colin. His hands had been magical on her skin, his touch had been thrilling and his kisses – his kisses made her heart stutter every single time. It had been intense, and connecting and somehow sudden, but how sudden? It felt like it had always been a matter of time, of when they'd stop fighting against this and let it happen, and now that it did, it had caught her unprepared. And as she reminisced in the good memories of the night before, a small fact – a detail, one might say – struck her.

They hadn't used any protection.

She closed her eyes in defeat, silently cursing herself for having forgotten such an important detail. So caught up in the moment as she was, the thought had never even occurred to her until now. They would have to talk about this, if they were to continue… whatever this was. This couldn't happen again, they'd have to be more careful in the future. It was all too easy to remember the sweet feeling of his skin against her, as physically close as they could be, with nothing stopping them, and it was all too easy to want it to happen again, but they would have to be much more conscious next time.

She felt the bed shift beside her and a second later a soft hand cupping her cheek. Despite her thoughts, she smiled.

"I know you're awake," his voice was quiet and sent shivers throughout her body. He stroked her cheek. She opened her eyes and blinked. He looked very handsome, with his wet hair, and she could see that he had shaved too. She could smell after-shave lotion and soap. She wondered if he did it for her. "Good morning."

"Good morning," she answered with a smile, caressing his hand and sitting up in bed, suddenly aware that she was probably not looking her best. She rubbed her eyes.

"You seem troubled," he commented as his hand came to rest on her knee. He gave her a gentle squeeze. She knew it was probably innocent but it still made her tingle slightly. She wasn't so used to his touch. "Did you sleep well?"

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "I did, thank you," he kept quiet, obviously still expecting an answer. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and decided she might as well talk of it now. "I just realised that, last night, we… Well, we didn't use anything. You know."

John frowned and after a second understood her words.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he said, and those were not the words she was expecting. "I didn't even think about it."

Anna shook her head. "It's all right, me neither. I mean, I never thought I'd need birth control after Colin, but I'm healthy, and I suppose you are too."

He nodded. "Yes, of course. Are you… worried about the consequences?"

Anna took a deep breath and met his gaze. He seemed honest, hiding nothing. It had been just once. Was it so worrying, really? She thought about it and shook her head. "I know they say it only takes once, but what are the odds, really?"

John smiled. "Well, it's done now. We'll just have to be more careful next time."

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she couldn't help but smile. So he wanted to continue this. At least, she thought he did. She grinned.

"You seem very sure that there will be a next time," she said cheekily. His eyes widened and she detected a faint blush in his cheeks.

"Oh, I didn't mean that way, just that, well, if it happens-"

She smiled at him all flustered and out of impulse leaned in and caught his lips in a soft, quick kiss. She pulled away with slight hesitance and shared a smile with him.

"I was just teasing you," Anna said. "You are right. We will just have to be more careful in the next times until I get us covered."

They shared a new, lighter smile and the promising look in his eyes made her tremble just a bit.

"Let's have breakfast, then?" he asked.

Anna nodded. "Let's."

* * *

John shifted in his seat, his fingers swiftly typing the letters, slowly forming another sentence for his book. He found he had been quite inspired today, and now, more than never, he was confident he'd finish the book before Christmas, maybe even with more than a few days to spare. He chanced a look at Anna, only to meet her gaze for a moment before she looked back at the manuscript she had been trying to read the whole day.

Yes, trying, because he had caught her staring much more than a few times, feeling her gaze on him more than usual. They were back at the house, after breakfast, since Anna insisted she needed to get some of her own clothes and had invited him along for the day, as it wasn't unusual for them. They did spend more time at the cottage, but every now and then he ventured into the house, and since Anna insisted, he couldn't very well say no.

He gave her some time and stopped by the village, arriving at the house a little while later with lunch, which had earned him a bright smile from her. He would have to admit he was a bit disappointed she was no longer wearing his clothes – they did look so awfully good on her – but she hadn't given them back to him either. She had chosen to wear jeans – and they fit her ever so well – and a comfortable sweater, and he was mildly disappointed to see her wavy hair trapped into a ponytail, but she was as beautiful as ever and he even thought about telling her that, but bit back the words. He wasn't sure how to progress now that so much progress had been done.

With the exception of the kiss she gave him in the morning, the rest of the day had been spent in an almost careful manner. He wasn't sure she wanted to talk about everything that had happened, and he himself wanted a break from all the troubles that seemed to run through them. They had attempted and succeeded in some light conversation topics, but apart from some lingering touches and looks, they hadn't had much contact. The mood had gone playful when they attempted to make dinner together and now, having been working for a while, he pondered if it was time he left for the cottage.

The last thing he wanted to do was to push Anna, to have her thinking he was expecting more, so he decided to keep quiet and write. Having exchanged few words after dinner and settling on the sofa of one of the house's living rooms – Anna's favourite, as she told him – he wondered if she had any idea of how much her simple movements could affect him. As she sat against the arm of the sofa, her eyes hidden behind her glasses as she read and her small feet almost touching his thigh, more than once he thought about sliding his hand to touch her lovely ankles, or bring her feet to his lap and try to warm them up. It hadn't been an unusual thing – they had both been in the same positions many days before, but as tantalising as it had been then, it was nothing compared as to how it was now, now that he had had Anna.

He sighed, writing the finishing words of yet another chapter. He chanced a look at the clock. It was barely past ten, but he felt exhausted after not having slept much in the previous night. Anna was apparently focused on her reading now. He looked around the room. It was tastefully decorated with comfortable sofas and a fireplace. It was quite traditional, in a way, though the big flat television on the wall displayed quite a bit of modernity there. It was currently on mute, some old period drama on. He had noticed Anna watching it a few times before. There were some photographs on the coffee table, and he supposed they were all Anna's, since she had told him before her aunt and uncle had already taken a lot of their things from the house. He noticed a young blonde girl in several of them all, and it made him smile. Despite everything, it seemed like she had had a good childhood.

He took a deep breath and closed the laptop, leaning back against the sofa. Anna looked up at him with a frown.

"Finished already?" she asked.

John nodded. "Seems like it. I'm exhausted."

"You did get a lot done," she said, taking off her glasses and putting them on top of her head. "Didn't even ask for help today."

"I thought you could use a break," he smiled. "Good book?"

She shrugged. "All right."

He nodded thoughtfully, and was just about to tell her he should get going when his eyes spotted an item in the far corner of the room, right in front of a window. He frowned in amusement.

"Is that a turntable?"

Anna followed his gaze and nodded. "Oh, yes. That's an old one. Belonged to my grandfather. We managed to get it fixed and everything but no one's used it in ages."

He turned to look at her. "You mean it still works?"

She nodded again. "It's supposed to work, yes. You can try it if you want to. There's an LP collection under it."

John stood up, making Anna laugh at his eagerness, and walked towards the turntable. Indeed, it seemed very well-cared for. Its polished wood made him smile. His father used to have one of those. Of course it had broken after a while; it was difficult to find one that worked nowadays. He thought he still remembered how it worked. He took a look at the cabinet under the turntable and opened it, finding a number of discs inside. It was clear it hadn't been used in a while, as most of the discs were from the fifties and sixties, but one of them made him smile.

"Found one, then?" he heard Anna's voice as he worked his way around the turntable. He smiled when the distinct sound of music started playing and turned around to see Anna chuckling at his song of choice. "Unchained Melody? Really?"

He arched his eyebrows. "It's a classic. Have you never seen Ghost?"

Her smile was bright and she put her glasses and the manuscript away on the coffee table. "You aren't hearing me complain. I actually like it."

John couldn't help but grin and walk towards her. "Come on. Let's dance."

"You dance, huh?" she said teasingly, but accepting his hand and standing up. "Tell me it's not something you learnt while in the university to impress girls."

He chuckled, enjoying the feeling of her hands against his and her body so close. "No. My mother taught me some moves here and there. I know my way around."

And to prove his point, he whirled her around, making her giggle when she turned back to the original position, though a bit closer now. He marvelled in the sound of her laughter against the melody. They moved slowly in their spot, and she looked so precious, so different from the broken woman of a few days before, that he couldn't help but place a chaste kiss on her forehead, closest to his reach. She let out another laugh as he attempted to move them in tune with the song, her ponytail bouncing ever so slightly. She was even closer to him now. He looked down and met her gaze.

"I could listen to your laugh all day," he commented and she blinked at his words, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

"You really do have a way with words," she said. Her voice was quiet, but her smile didn't falter. Her hands moved to his shoulders and he placed his on her waist. "No wonder you're a writer."

She stopped rather abruptly, and before he knew she was standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. Her lips were soft and lingering, rather insistent against his, and it wasn't long before he was kissing her back and she was opening her mouth, deepening the kiss. He wondered how it was possible for her to taste even better now than she had all the previous times; he brought her closer to him, stroking her waist as he felt her hands slipping through the hair just above his neck.

They pulled away to breathe a moment later, and he vaguely noticed that the room was silent now. Anna's eyes were anxious, boring into his, but she made no attempt to move away from him. Instead, she kissed him again, quickly but full of promise.

"Why don't you stay here tonight?" she whispered as she pulled away. "I know I said we needed to be careful and we do, but I-"

"I may have taken care of that when I went to the village earlier," he admitted. "I hope you don't find me too cheeky."

Anna let out a laugh and kissed him again.

* * *

They made it to the bed, this time; they had to stop by the kitchen to get some provisions, but he found that once she kissed him it was difficult for him to stop and not kiss her. As she led him up the stairs to the bedroom she occupied, he didn't even pay much attention to his surroundings, only to her. The first time had been rushed and he felt like he hadn't had much time to fully explore her; now, however, he was sure he'd never have enough time to do that. He was completely mesmerised by her, in every way possible. The way that she had whimpered when he backed her up against the door before they reached the bedroom, how she moaned when he cupped her breasts through the material of her sweater and how she seemed to always gasp when he kissed that spot behind her ear.

Anna had taken to a more active part than last time, undressing him languidly when they reached the bedroom, taking her time with his chest and teasing through his undergarments; she definitely would learn fast how to drive him crazy, as she already did, and he didn't mind it one bit. Her hands were swift and soft and everywhere, and teasing and exploring like they never had before.

Soon they had reached their peak and as she climbed on top of him and most coherent thoughts were banished from his mind, he could only marvel in the feeling of her skin against his, of how perfectly they fit, of how incredibly right this felt, despite everything; Anna made him feel alive, more alive than anything or anyone ever had before, despite how tentative their actions and touches still were, still discovering, still anxious to make the other feel good, but the feeling of being inside her was more than enough for him. As her movements grew increasingly fast and he moved his attentions from her perky breasts and reached to where they were joined, massaging her and slowly learning what she liked, he knew he'd be undone soon.

In the back of his mind, whilst he watched her bite her lower lip and moan, he thought about how he had never had this before, this strong connection, to any other woman before. As she shuddered on top of him, splaying her hands against his chest and reaching to kiss his lips, himself losing control, he vaguely thought that this was it – this was what he had been looking for, and it was so much more than physical intimacy and friendship and companionship.

It was love.

John kissed her languidly when she collapsed on top of him, her light weight feeling delicious against him, their breaths mingling as they struggled to get it back to normal. This time, so unlike the last one, had they sharing a smile, and he realised that was the first time he had seen one of her smile reaching her eyes, and his heart swelled with joy.

This time, they lay contently afterwards, talking about sweet nothings and he found out it wasn't so difficult to make her laugh, especially when he touched that spot beneath her ribs. He was sure he looked like a fool whenever Anna smiled, but he didn't mind it at all. This time, he told her she was beautiful. And this time, she replied him with a kiss.

He decided that with Anna by his side, there was nothing he couldn't do.

* * *

"It's good to see that no one is missing this morning," Anna's soft voice startled him and he turned from the stove to see her in the doorway.

John stood with his mouth agape at the sight of her, now wearing the hoodie he had been wearing the previous evening and some pink slippers. Luckily for him, the hoodie was big enough to cover most of her thighs but she had to know it affected him. It took him at least two seconds to properly close his mouth and smile at her as she walked towards him.

"You know, I thought you had decided to wear my clothes yesterday because yours were dirty and the rest was here," he teased her. "But I think you just want to drive me a little crazy."

She hugged him from behind as he took care of their breakfast, careful to not be distracted by her leaning against him. Anna planted a kiss on his shoulder and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

"I like your clothes. They smell like you," she said simply, before moving away from him and settling with her back on the counter. "What are you making?"

"Just some eggs and toast," he answered with a shrug. "I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but you beat me to it."

She let out a laugh. "Well, we'll just have to work on some other opportunities," he exchanged a look with her. She seemed a bit anxious. "I was wondering if, when the book is finished, you'd like to go to London with me. There's… something I'd like to do there. And I'd like it if you came with me."

John smiled. "I'd love to. But we don't need to wait until the book is finished. We can go this week, if you'd like."

"So soon?" Anna asked in surprise. "But there are only 3 weeks until Christmas and the book isn't finished."

"Two or three more chapters and it's over. I can manage a day or two without writing," he told her. "If you're asking me now it must be important. I maintain what I said before, Anna. I'm here for you."

She smiled sweetly and he detected a hint of sadness there, but also gratitude. He took a quick look at the eggs and stepped away to be closer to her. The moment he opened his arms, she embraced him and he placed a soft kiss on her temple. She pulled away to look at him properly, her hands cupping his cheeks.

"Thank you," Anna told him. "You're such a wonderful man."

"Well, you make it very easy for me, you know," he commented and she laughed, though she cringed abruptly after a moment.

"I think there's something burning," she said, but he gave her a quick peck on the lips before going back to check the eggs.

He didn't mind. Not even burnt eggs would take Anna's sweet taste out of his mouth.

* * *

**A/N:** We're getting closer to the ending, and there's still some healing to be done... Reviews are always welcome! What do you think Anna wants to do in London? Some issues still need covering, let's see if you'll get it all right, since you were all so clever about Anna's past! :)

Thanks so much for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** Another M-rated chapter, so you've been warned! Totally borrowed the shower idea from Teamhousemaid on tumblr, so I hope you'll like it! Special thanks to my super editor Terrie and to everyone who has reviewed so far. Hope you'll enjoy this chapter!

* * *

_Chapter Twelve_

Anna got out of the car and looked at the building across the street, instant trepidation running through her. Oblivious to her internal turmoil was the active city around them, as busy as ever on a weekday as London was. She took a deep breath. She remembered very well the last time she had been here. It had not been a much different day. Slight drizzle and a chilly wind. She wondered if she was ready for this.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned her gaze to him as he looked at her from across the car. She managed a smile. Yes, she wanted to do this. Even though it had been almost two years, she needed to do this in order to properly move on and she had always known this, right from the start. She just had never had the will – the strength – to do this.

Anna nodded. "Yes, I'm sure."

She wasn't worried. Anxious, maybe. Perhaps anxious to get this over with, she wasn't sure. Walking slowly towards him, she caught his hand when they crossed the street together. And as she tried on the keys to the door, thankful that it had worked, she hadn't let his hand go. The warmth of his skin soothed her somehow, even though he had been silent for the most of it. She could feel his worried gaze on her, and she did her best to appear calm. She appreciated his presence, his willingness to accompany her there. She knew she couldn't do it alone. She knew she couldn't do it without him.

"It's on the first floor so we're almost there," Anna found herself saying as they started up the stairs.

John nodded. "This is a nice place. Well located."

Anna hummed an agreement. "Yeah, we were going to live here after we… after the wedding. At least for a while."

"But you didn't live here," it was more of a question than a statement. They reached the corridor.

"No. I spent the night occasionally. Sometimes came here after work to make sure everything was all right," she told him with a half-smile. "Colin could be a bit of a slob sometimes."

It didn't feel bad, to talk about him to John. He was understanding, and a very good listener. He never overstepped with his questions and Anna found it so easy to share her thoughts and memories with him. She wasn't exactly looking forward to doing this, but it was somewhat easier knowing she had someone there too. She stopped in front of the door and slid the key inside the lock. She wasn't sure if she liked the click sound it made. It was unlocked. All she had to do was turn the doorknob. And, for a moment, she thought about locking it again and leaving.

It wasn't every day you went back to the place where you found your fiancé's dead body.

She took a shaky breath and opened the door carefully. It was just like it had always been, judging by the first sight of the flat. The air was a bit close, if anything. She doubted anyone came here much these days. Everything about the place reminded her of Colin, though it smelled surprisingly impersonal. She supposed someone had been keeping it clean, even if the place was a bit dusty. But then… they probably had it the place cleaned over after it all happened.

She felt a squeeze in her hand and looked at John. His kind eyes warmed her up instantly. She could do this.

"Let's get this done, yeah?" she said softly, her voice low. John nodded.

It was almost surreal to walk around that place again, to be surrounded by his possessions and to be in a place that used to be so familiar to her only a few years ago. She knew she didn't have many things over there, but she was quite shocked to find the place in such an immaculate state. It was almost as if Colin was still living there. She could see his CD collection from where she was standing,

"You said his mother wanted to leave it all as it was?" John asked her quietly.

Anna nodded, feeling slightly overwhelmed about it all. "He and his mother didn't get on well. I think I met her only once before… before his funeral. So I guess this was her way of coping."

Family was complicated, and she remembered it all too well from Colin's funeral. Everyone had seemed so shocked, herself included, but no one ever blamed her. His mother had been kind, and mentioned she intended on keeping Colin's place as it was for the time being, but that she was welcome to get her things from there whenever she wanted to. Anna never did. It was too painful to even think of returning to this place, let alone spending time there.

"Or maybe not coping," John observed as he looked around the living room with somewhat sad eyes. "I sympathise."

Anna smiled sadly at him and looked around the room one more time before taking a deep breath and, with a tug to John's hand, they headed to the corridor. She took little notice of the pictures hanging on the wall; she remembered them all too well, small moments that once upon a time had seemed like they would last forever but they were now absolutely gone – the only thing left for her were memories; memories that sometimes were more haunting than innocent.

Instead of debating on them, Anna gripped John's hand and guided him to the rooms where she knew she had kept some things.

It hadn't been easy, despite Anna not having much around. She found a couple of earrings, some clothes and a scarf, but that was about it. It was still raw in her mind how she and Colin had seemed so distant towards the ending, and that was visible through this; it hadn't been unusual for them to spend time in her flat instead, but not even that had been happening frequently. Being in this place only served to remind Anna of what they were – of the arguing, the feeling of helplessness, the shutting out. It had been years and, yet, it felt like yesterday.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, she had gathered some of her things under John's watchful gaze. They kept conversation light for the most part of it all; deciding where they'd go afterwards, what they were planning to do. It was almost absurd, considering the current situation. Anna didn't ponder much on it, though; Aunt Claire's words echoed in her ears and she knew she was right. Colin would have wanted her to be happy.

John made her happy. Even if it was such a recent relationship.

"I've forgotten to check the bathroom," Anna suddenly remembered as they were on their way out. "Go on ahead. I'll meet you in the car."

He looked worried. "Are you sure?"

Anna nodded. "I think I might have one or two things there. Should be quick. I'll meet you in a minute."

He seemed reluctant to leave her on her own, but he went anyway, taking the small box with Anna's belongings with him. She took a deep breath and turned around, quickly making her way back towards the corridor. She had seen this way too many times in her dreams recently. This time, she looked at the picture on the wall. She couldn't keep her eyes away. A picture was missing, the one that had been broken. The only one left was a big one of the two of them while on a vacation. Anna stared at the younger version of herself; she remembered this day. As she remembered many others.

She stopped by the bathroom door and took a deep breath before reaching for the doorknob. The white walls were as bright as she remembered, and she could feel her heart beating faster out of her chest. She sucked in a breath, averting her eyes from the bathtub and from the floor, and headed straight for the cabinets. Unlike anything in the flat, the bathroom smelled strongly of bleach, and it unsettled her somehow. She opened the cabinet. There were two of her lotions in there and she reached for them with shaky hands and closed the cabinet. The reflection of the white walls on the mirror made her jump slightly. She closed her eyes.

_Red, dark blood._

She felt a bit light-headed, but decided to check the drawers too, though there was nothing there. She needed to get out. She turned to leave.

Despite it all, however, her gaze seemed to focus on a particular spot on the floor. She closed them again. The two items she had been holding fell to the floor. Flashbacks from two years ago ran through her mind; blood, blood on the walls and on the floor, and her fiancé's lifeless body there, his face nearly unrecognizable, a gun next to him. It was too raw, too recent, too clear, and she couldn't escape it.

She couldn't breathe.

"Anna?"

John's voice reached her ears and she instantly opened her eyes again. Two lone tears escaped them as she turned around, her resolve weakening the moment she laid eyes on him. She let out a sob and suddenly she was being enveloped in his embrace, clutching onto him as her sobs grew louder. His warmth comforted her, his presence made her feel safe, and she wasn't quite sure why she was crying anymore. Perhaps it was because of the overwhelming feeling this place left over her, with all the memories she desperately wanted to forget, but couldn't.

"I'm here," his voice was quiet, so quiet. "Don't let the bad memories erase the good ones. That's what you told me. Don't let it all go because of the bad."

She gasped at his words, holding him tighter than before, knowing this had to be done. She nodded against his chest; he was right. She couldn't forget the memories, she couldn't let them go, but she could live with them. And perhaps, in time, she could enjoy the happy ones without thinking of the sad times. It wouldn't be now or tomorrow, but it could happen.

This was just the first step.

* * *

The day had started sunny and despite the chilly air, it was a nice morning outside. Anna ran a bit faster, willing to make this day a better one. What with the long hours in the car to get to London and spending time at Colin's old flat, she felt as if the more she ran, the more grief went away; despite everything, despite the tiredness and the distress the previous day had caused, she felt better, motivated even. In a way, she felt relieved for having finally done it. To have gone there after so much time and to finally feel the closure she needed for so long made her happy. She would never forget Colin; he changed her life and made her who she was today.

But she could only be thankful to John, because he was the one who made her want to look forward to the future.

She was glad for the early morning air and the park right in front John's house; it wasn't Calm Waters, but it would do well. After they left Colin's flat, there was the question of where they should stay. Since John's place was nearer, they had decided to go there. It had been months since John was in the house, however, but Anna was surprised to find it in a reasonable state. The exhausting day had them staying in, as John had to take care of some things in the house, and they had eaten in a comfortable silence before heading to bed earlier than it was usual for them. And for the first night ever since they got together, they simply held each other to sleep, talking of little nothings and willing to escape to the land of dreams.

Surprisingly for Anna, she had had a very good night without as much as a simple dream, let alone the recurring nightmare she kept having. She woke up before John did, and upon checking out the weather outside, decided it would be nice to go for a run, which she hadn't done in the past few days. John had woken up as she got dressed, and she almost went back to bed and to his arms, but she was sure it would do her some good to go out on her own. She kissed him goodbye and promised she'd be back in no time.

He lived in a big place, far too big for just one person anyway, but it was tastefully decorated and more than she would expect from a single man, but she remembered he had been a father, after all. There were many rooms and a library – though not as big as the one in Calm Waters – and she voiced her approval of the place, even though John remained quiet. Sometimes she forgot he was a best-selling author who still sold many books. It was weird how she had come to know him so much that she rarely thought of the famous writer she was a fan of.

It was a nice neighbourhood too. There were some people walking their dogs and hurried people rushing to get to their work places. London somewhat made her tired, in a way. There was nothing like having the lake near her, the quiet atmosphere. It was difficult to believe she had lived so many years in this city – still did. Of course soon she would have to go back permanently, when they sold the place at the lake. She briefly wondered what would become of her and John, but she shook her head. She wouldn't think about that.

Anna crossed the street to John's house, opening the door quickly and stepping in, breathing hard from running but feeling extreme gratification in doing so. She could smell bacon, and smiled, deciding to make a detour in the kitchen before going in for a shower.

She found John in front of the stove, clad in his dark pyjama pants and a white shirt. His feet were bare and she felt a thrill run through her. He was humming a song, and she let out a small laugh at this. It was great to see him as happy as he seemed to be lately. He turned when her laugh reached his ears.

"Hello," John smiled.

"Hi," Anna said a bit shyly, suddenly very aware that she had been running for the past half an hour and was very sweaty.

John didn't seem to care. "Come here, you."

"Oh no, I'm all sweaty," she started, but he glared at her and she couldn't say no to him. "Fine, but I'm warning you, I really need a shower."

He rolled his eyes and she walked towards him; she wanted to keep a distance but he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, surprising her with a kiss on her lips. She yielded, unable to refuse him, especially when his lips were making her weak in the knees. When they pulled apart, she was the one to protest, and he chuckled.

"So, what are you making?" she asked after a moment.

"Some bacon and eggs," he said nonchalantly.

"Aren't you glad I said we should stop for groceries yesterday?" she teased him as she made to get away from his arms, but he wouldn't let her. "John, I need a shower. I'm all sweaty."

He interrupted her with a kiss, gentle and loving moving in sync with hers, and when she opened her mouth ever so slightly to let out a sigh, he took the chance to slip his tongue inside and she gulped down a moan, her arms encircling his neck as if to make sure she wouldn't fall. She couldn't get enough of the taste of him, especially after their quiet night together. She had feared that going to Colin's place would only serve to make her more hesitant about her relationship with John, but if anything it made her more sure of it. She was amazed that he could comfort her so quickly, say the right things all the time, and be so loving and amazing – so different from the writer she met months ago. This was different; it was more than comfort or physical intimacy. It seemed like the connection she felt with him months ago only increased and became something else – something _better_.

They pulled apart and he gave her a quick peck on her lips before settling her in his arms, a mischievous grin on his face.

"I've seen you all sweaty before. I quite like it," he commented before placing a kiss on her jaw. "I missed you this morning."

"You and your words," Anna smiled, cradling his face in her hands and grazing her lips softly against his. "Why don't you join me for that shower?"

He hummed in appreciation, but his smile fell after a second. "Only after breakfast is ready."

"You mean you started something you can't finish?" Anna asked him, arching her eyebrows. "What a shame."

She took a chance at his disappointment and slipped away from his arms, grinning.

"I'll go alone, then," she said softly, "I'll try not to be too long."

She winked at him before walking away, and she did not have to look to know that he was staring at her.

* * *

The bathroom was steamy when John pushed the door open, which had been left slightly ajar. Anna was apparently set on teasing him this morning; first when he woke up, then when she got back from her jogging and now this. He could make out her slim figure through the shower glass, and he felt suddenly hot. Of course he couldn't stop thinking about her invitation after she left him in the kitchen, and it wasn't long until he followed her steps. She was humming some song he didn't know, and he smiled; she hadn't heard him coming in.

He was glad she was in such a good mood this morning, but she had confided in him that she felt relieved and happy that she was done with it all. A final resolution, she had called it. She had thanked him too, though he had no idea why. She helped him more than she knew.

Opting to not startle her, he decided to step into the bathroom.

"Room for another?" he asked tentatively.

Anna opened the shower stall's glass door slightly and peeked her head out, her hair full of shampoo foam. He had to smile at the sight of her.

"I was already thinking you wouldn't come up," she said in a teasing voice and he took his shirt off as she went back to her shower.

"Then you don't know me enough," he retorted, earning a giggle from her.

She was taking the shampoo out of her hair when he finally joined her, and he nearly gasped at the sight of her deliciously naked body and the way her jaw angled as to not have any foam over her eyes. She had a soft smile on her face; she knew exactly what she was doing. Taking careful steps, he reached for her, encircling her waist from behind, and kissing the spot behind her ear that he knew she liked. She smiled and opened her eyes, apparently satisfied with the washing of her hair.

Turning in his arms suddenly, he kept his arms around her, but she pulled his head close to give him a kiss, wetting his hair. She giggled when they pulled away, and reached for the shampoo to clean his hair. It was all surprisingly comfortable, and so newly intimate at the same time. He sneaked a kiss whenever he could – the situation was making it very difficult for him to control himself, and Anna didn't help at all; her hands grazed his body everywhere, teasing and unreachable at occasions, and the mischief in her eyes could not be mistaken.

Finally, as Anna turned around to get soap, John took the opportunity to hug her again, his hands slow and tentative against the skin of her stomach as he kissed and sucked at her jaw. He could not contain his smile when he heard a whimper. Two could play at this game.

His touch grew bolder as he peppered her neck and shoulders with kisses, and she leaned into him, obviously enjoying the proximity. His hands cupped her perfect breasts and she moaned, turning her head towards him, but he averted her lips on purpose. She wriggled a bit under his touch, and he was sure she could feel his hardness on her back. God, the things Anna did to him.

Her skin was soft and wet under his touch, and he slowly lowered one of his hands, teasing her bellybutton as Anna grasped at the hair on the back of his head. He bit back a moan himself when he reached his destination and found that she was as ready for him as he was for her. He quickly captured her lips in a kiss, and he turned her around, taking hold of her legs as her arms went around his neck. She moaned against his lips and he took her off the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He held her against the wall and she yelped at the coldness, but giggled as he mumbled a breathless 'I'm sorry'.

As they struggled to get comfortable in a limited space, Anna giggled at his slight groan of frustration. Keeping one hand on his shoulder, she used the other to turn the shower off and smiled at him.

"Let's get out of here," she said wickedly. He kissed her lips again before moving to slide the stall's door open.

In a matter of seconds he found himself in bed, covering Anna's body as his hands travelled up and down her sides. He just couldn't get enough of her – he wanted to know every single inch of her body, and wanted to give attention to every small area. Suddenly, however, her hands pushed him away, making him turn to lie on his back as she peppered his face with kisses, drops of water falling out from her hair, but the last thing in his mind were the bed sheets.

Her hands were spread against his chest, slowly massaging him and travelling perilously lower; John suck in a breath and felt Anna's smile against his skin as she moved to kiss his chest. He found that he liked it when she took control over the situation, and she seemed to quite enjoy it too. A moan escaped him as her hand seized him, stroking his skin in soft movements. Her lips seemed intent on following her hands path, teasing at his navel, and he laid his head back, making Anna grin rather sassily.

He groaned when her mouth was suddenly on him, her tongue in sync with her hand's movements, and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. She'd be the death of him if she continued this way. He opened his eyes again and another moan escaped his lips as they made eye contact. Quickly making his mind, he reached for her shoulders and she pulled away from him, slowly crawling up on his body.

"God, Anna," he whispered before meeting her lips in deep kiss.

It was him who turned them around a second later, his body covering hers immediately as she rocked against him and he decided they had been teasing each other for too long. He pulled away for a moment to get them properly safe, which was a surprisingly difficult task to achieve when she was nipping at his ear. He grasped her legs after a moment, his hands massaging her breasts and his lips too occupied kissing her as he finally entered her. She moaned and he pulled away, slowly thrusting into her as they never left each other's gazes. Anna was almost slippery underneath him, and as his thrusts grew quicker and he reached between their bodies to stroke her, she closed her eyes, and it wasn't long before she was shuddering against him.

Minutes later, they lay side by side, their bodies thoroughly spent and slowly catching their breath. Anna let out a laugh.

"Now that's a nice way to start a morning," she commented.

John laughed and reached for her, who turned on her side and laid her head on his shoulder. He kissed her forehead.

"We should go down and have breakfast," she said softly.

"We can spare a few minutes, love," John said, the term of endearment escaping his lips. Anna said nothing. "Do we have anything planned for today?"

"Aunt Claire wants me over for lunch," Anna said after a moment. She averted his eyes. "Would you… would you like to come along?"

He smiled at her sudden shyness. "Would you like me to go?"

She shrugged. "It would be nice."

"Then I'll ago, if you don't mind," he said suddenly, and she looked up at him a bit surprised. "But I'd like it if we went out tonight. Just the two of us."

"Are you asking me out on a date?" Anna narrowed her eyes.

He was nervous for a moment; the thought had crossed his mind more than once in the past few days.

"Well, I thought… I mean, I don't want you to get the wrong impression," he started, "that _this_ is all that there is of us, I mean."

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes."

He frowned. "What?"

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you," she rolled her eyes good-naturedly before kissing his mouth soundly. "You impossible, hopeless, endearing man."

He let out a chuckle. "Well, I try."

She giggled and sat up, stretching, and he admired the curves of her naked body. He could stay in bed with her all day.

"Come on, breakfast. We'll need to get ready for lunch and then maybe have some time for ourselves," she winked at him before getting out of bed and reaching for her robe.

She tied it rather loosely around her waist and he watched her as she combed her partially wet hair. She met his eyes in the mirror and walked towards him, giving him a peck on the lips before heading to the door.

"I guess I should start thinking about what to wear on our first date too," she added cheekily.

He couldn't help but smile.

* * *

A/N: We have exactly 3 more chapter left! Any ideas on what will happen? Reviews are always very much welcome. Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N:** A bit closer to the end now! Hope you'll enjoy this one. Thanks for reading!

* * *

_Chapter Thirteen_

Anna met John's eye out of the corner of her eye and they shared a soft smile as her uncle complained about one of the publishing house's writers. She sobered up quickly upon noticing Aunt Claire's watchful gaze on them, curiosity slowly taking the best of her. It was incredibly nice to have a family meal again, as it had been so long since she spent proper time with her relatives. In fact, even before going to the lake, Anna realised she hadn't been spending much time with her family; it almost felt as if she hadn't listened to what they said in over a year. With the shadow of Colin's death always there as a somewhat forbidden subject to discuss, they had all grown distant.

She felt she could change it now.

Her aunt and uncle lived in a very nice house in Kensington, and everything had been ready when they got there. Her aunt was very surprised to see John with her, though Uncle Max didn't seem to be. They welcomed him with graceful smiles, but her aunt's questioning gaze had been on her often since then. Her uncle was quick to ask John about his book, and although they maintained some distance, his hand never left the small of her back as they walked towards the dining room. It was comforting and it could easily be seen as a friendly gesture, though Anna was sure her aunt and uncle wouldn't take it as that.

"I take it you're taking good care of the house while staying there?" her aunt asked, looking at the both of them.

Anna smiled a bit sadly before looking up from her dessert. "It's as perfect as ever."

"We've had a new offer," Uncle Max told her. "I'll have to discuss it with you later."

Anna nodded. "Of course."

She felt a gentle squeeze at her knee and smiled weakly at John, meeting his hand with her hers and intertwining their fingers.

"John tells me his book is nearly ready," her uncle commented. "I must say I'm impressed. I was beginning to doubt you'd get it ready by the deadline."

John shrugged. "Well, it's not finished yet, but it will be soon. Don't underestimate your niece's insisting abilities."

Aunt Claire let out a laugh. "Oh, we don't."

Afterwards, as Uncle Max and John disappeared into the library, though not before she and John exchanged a smile, and Aunt Claire was quick to send her a knowing glance, as if she knew a secret. It was somewhat amusing. Anna let out a laugh.

"What?"

"I'm happy that you're happy, that's all," Aunt Claire said softly with a smile. "I haven't seen you smile so much in years."

"Really? It's not on purpose," Anna frowned slightly, the smile still fixed on her face.

"Isn't that the best kind?" her aunt sighed. "He's a good man. And he cares for you, I can see that."

Anna smiled brighter. "Well, that's a good thing. Because I care for him too."

Her aunt's reply had been a smile just as bright as Anna's.

* * *

One thing was to take a woman on a first date; another thing altogether was to get ready for your first date in the same room as the woman in question was getting ready too. John had just finished buttoning up his shirt when he heard the hairdryer noise from the bathroom. He had made them reservations in a nice restaurant not far from his house, and had opted to wear simple black pants and a black shirt. Of course he knew it wasn't as simple for women; he supposed he should just wait now.

He had been meaning to ask her out somewhere since before going to London; it seemed a bit weird that they spent so much time together, almost entire days together, and had yet to go out on a date. It was hardly conventional, how their relationship started, but he liked to do things properly, or at least try to. Anna had teased him about it, and he was glad that she seemed to take the situation so easily. It might have been a hard decision to revisit the past, but it was already showing results, and he couldn't be happier.

He had been waiting for about half an hour, watching the news with little interest in his living room, when Anna finally appeared. She was a vision in a little dark red dress, a black pantyhose matching her black heels and making her legs go on forever, which was saying something for someone as small as she was. John realized they had never really dressed up before. He quite liked the result. She smiled a bit uncertainly at him, her wavy hair cascading over her shoulders and a small black bag hanging on her shoulder, a dark shawl around her arms. He decided it was time to close his mouth.

"You look gorgeous," he managed to say as he stood up.

"You look very handsome as well," she added with a smile. "Is it appropriate, then? I wasn't sure, since I don't know where we're going."

"You look perfect," John said as he stood in front of her, leaning down slightly to kiss her softly. She was smiling when he pulled away.

"Isn't the kiss supposed to happen _after _the date?"

He chuckled. "You'll never stop teasing me about this, will you?" to prove his point of not caring, he kissed her again. "Come on, the taxi is outside. We should get going."

The cold air hit them as he opened the door for her. He took her hand and guided her, her fingers lacing themselves with his. He only let her go minutes later, when the maître took them to their table at the restaurant. It was a cosy little place, as he had only been there a few times before, but they got a nice table next to the fireplace. Anna smiled as she sat down across from him while they were given the menus; as they were left on their own, he found her staring at him.

"So, what's on your mind?" he asked her softly.

Her eyes glistened as she spoke. She looked absolutely beautiful. "This is a fancy place. What's the occasion?"

"It _is_ our first date," he told her quietly. "And, thinking about it, it has been one week since we got together, if that qualifies for special. You'll find that I am a romantic man on occasion, Miss Smith."

Anna let out a giggle before arching her eyebrows and eyeing the menu presumptuously. "Well, that's nice to hear."

He ordered them a wine and for a moment was at a loss of words as Anna looked around the room, and he watched her. He supposed it would be easy to fall into conversation, as they always did, but this was a new territory for both of them. When her eyes met his, they both laughed at the awkwardness of the situation.

"I don't know why this is so different," Anna commented, "We go out all the time to have lunch together."

"But it was always a meal between friends," he pointed out.

She grinned. "Aren't we friends?"

"We are," he instantly agreed with a boyish grin, "but we're a little more than that too."

She understood the meaning of his words and they exchanged a smile as the waiter brought them the wine and served them. It was nice to treat Anna this way; he silently vowed to make it happen often, as she deserved it. He raised his glass as the waiter left them.

"To what shall we toast?"

She raised hers as well, a playful smile crossing her features. "To the future," she said softly, "and our _friendship_."

He grinned back. Those were two things he would always toast for.

* * *

Anna suggested walking home instead of taking a taxi, since the restaurant wasn't so far away, and John agreed; everything had gone very well. It had been a nice change and, since they'd be going back to the lake in the morning, it made for a bit of a time off while in London. He had been enjoying himself and he was sure that once he was back the book could be finished very soon. He felt inspired; refreshed, even. And he was glad that Anna seemed to be enjoying herself as well. He found her deep in thought occasionally, but her smiles, more frequent as the day passed, seemed sincere.

She shivered as they started walking, and he shook his head at her idea of walking home. Of course she was cold; that shawl could hardly keep her warm. He stopped and took his jacket off as Anna questioningly looked at him, smiling softly when he put the jacket over her shoulders.

"Thank you," she said, slipping her arms into the jacket's sleeves. It was way too big for her, longer than her dress even, but she looked adorable. "Won't you be cold?"

"I can manage," John said, walking again and catching her hand. It was cold. "I seem to have to try to warm you up constantly."

"You do your job well," Anna smiled as they strolled leisurely. "I forgot to ask. What did Uncle Max and you talk so much about?"

John smiled. "What do you think?"

"Books," she rolled her eyes. "Of course."

"Which reminds me that I do have a book to finish when we get home tomorrow," he told her.

"No thinking of work while on a break," Anna warned him. Her features softened after a second. "Funny that you should call that place home."

"As it has been, for the past months," John said, looking down at her; he was surprised to see a sad look on her face. "News on the selling of the house?"

"Still the same, but I suppose it'll happen soon," she said softly as they walked around the park. "It's not surprising. I think it'll be sold before Christmas, anyway."

They walked in a comfortable silence until finally reaching his house's front door. Instead of opening it, however, he stopped, with keys in his hand, and looked at Anna. She smiled sweetly at him and arched her eyebrows.

"You know, after the first date, you may consider kissing me," she said. "And, you know, see how it goes."

"Should I?" he asked, and she nodded enthusiastically. He sighed tiredly. "All right, if I must…"

She was still giggling when he kissed her softly, cherishing the feel of her warm lips against his and the taste of her on his tongue. She still had her eyes closed when he pulled away, and he chuckled softly.

"How did it go?" John asked, his face inches away from hers.

She opened her eyes. "Very, very well."

He eyed her appreciatively. "You know, I'm getting tired of seeing you wearing my clothes and look better in them than I do," he said in a serious tone, "So I propose we go inside and take you out of this jacket. And out of the dress too, as a matter of fact."

Anna grinned at him and nodded at the keys in his hand. "Well, I'm waiting."

He really didn't need to be told twice.

* * *

They set on waking up early for the trip back to the lake, but John had another place to stop by before actually leaving. As he drove them by the exit, Anna looked at him with questioning eyes, and he merely told her he wanted to take her somewhere. She asked no further questions, and for that he was glad. She would understand soon enough.

As they got closer, the familiar route he had passed by so many times now, a somewhat soothing feeling ran through him. It had been months since he stopped by, and he hadn't realised how much he had actually missed this place. It could be weird, especially for a non-believer as he was, but it gave him peace, and more than often he'd visit the cemetery, especially in particularly bad days. Sometimes, he'd talk. Other times, he'd simply stand by and watch. It was sad, really, for the only family he had was buried right here, six feet under, and he was still alive. But, instead, it gave him peace.

"I used to come here at least once a week before going to the lake," he told Anna as they entered the cemetery, hand in hand. She was silent, perhaps a bit anxious to hear what he would have to say. "It might seem weird, but it helped. Danny and my parents are buried here."

It was a rather gloomy day, and a cold breeze kept them in their coats and standing close together. He knew the way like the palm of his hand; they had had a good time in London, and he was sure Anna was leaving some ghosts behind. He was certain he wouldn't leave anyone behind – but perhaps this asked for a proper goodbye, for now. When they reached the gravestone, he felt a slight squeeze within his chest. It still wasn't easy, not after nearly two years. He doubted it would ever get better. But as Anna had told him many times before, he couldn't keep pretending anymore; he needed to live again. And she, despite everything, was his chance.

And he knew that for that to happen properly, he needed her to understand – solidly, palpably – his history. And he hoped she would, standing in front of his son's gravestone. It didn't matter how much time had passed. It still hurt; it was still wrong. It was still surreal.

As it would always be.

He thought about saying something, but words would be fruitless, and Anna apparently understood it. He briefly told her about how he used to talk, sometimes. She asked him if he wanted her to give him some space. He nodded.

And he regretted almost instantly, as he saw her slowly walking away, her small figure always patient, always understanding. No, he didn't really want to talk. He supposed he had wanted an approval of sorts; from his mother, maybe, from his son? He smiled, a watery smile as tears slowly, second by second, filled his eyes; he was sure they would have loved Anna. He was absolutely certain of it. And for a brief moment, not for the first time, he wondered how it would have been like if he had met her before it all happened, before his life spun around and changed forever. But it wasn't meant to be.

They did find each other, in the end, and he supposed it had been the right time.

_No, _he corrected himself. _Not in the end. In the beginning._

For the first time, he didn't ponder on all the ifs, all the possibilities, the different outcomes that could have happened. He was resigned to the situation, to the facts. There would be no changing. And even though it hurt, he thought he could live with that – with the thought that they were in a better place, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent anything from happening. It was done now, and there was nogoing back. And maybe it would hurt more on certain days, or perhaps there would be days when it wouldn't hurt as much, but he was resigned to the pain. And more than that, he was aware that he needed to change his life in order to accept this.

Anna had been right all along; pain and suffering and guilt wouldn't bring them back. But it didn't mean that by living a life miserably would make do for a life without them. They wouldn't want that, not any of them. And it was up to John and Anna to make their remaining time here worth it.

He smiled when he saw her from a distance, perhaps ten minutes later, holding two small daisy bouquets in her hands. She smiled back, hesitantly, almost shyly, and he not for the first time was thankful for her – for her presence, for her smile. For her changing his world, little by little, day by day.

"I thought I'd cheer this place up a bit," she said quietly, placing one bouquet in front of Danny's gravestone. She chanced a smile at him. "I hope you don't mind."

He shook his head, touched by her thoughtfulness. "Not at all. Thank you."

"It was nothing. They always have flower shops around," she shrugged, exhaling slowly. "I thought it was worth a go."

They stood silently, side by side, for a moment. He took her hand and eyed the yet untouched bouquet in her hands.

"I think we should go see my mother. She's always loved daisies, you know."

Anna smiled. "Well, I wouldn't want to make a bad impression."

He couldn't resist kissing her now, not when she was so thoughtful and kind and adorable. It was just a soft touch of lips, but it meant a lot to him, that she was there with him. It was as if two parts of his life now mingled, even though one was still so recent.

"You would never make a bad impression," he told her quietly. "They would all have loved you."

She nodded quietly as he led them through the cemetery.

They still had a lot of healing to do, he was sure of that – this was merely the start. But for the first time, in years, he felt like he was on the right path. Some things could never be forgotten or changed, and as much as it hurt he'd have to live with them. He only hoped that, now, happier memories and moments were to follow, and as Anna smiled softly at him when he began talking about his mother, he thought he saw a glimpse of hope in her eyes as well.

It wasn't much, perhaps, but it could be, if they were together. And he wanted her in this new start with him.


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N:** The end of the journey! I want to thank everyone who has reviewed so far, has favorited or followed this story. It was a pleasure to write and I'll definitely miss it. With it being different from what I usually write, I was very pleasantly surprised that so many of you liked it. I apologize for not updating last weekend as life kept me busy but now here it is. Expect an epilogue this weekend - it's not quite over yet! Thanks to my patient editor Terrie and to TeamHousemaid, who both gave me several ideas and a lot of feedback on this.

Hope you'll find the ending satisfactory!

* * *

_Chapter Fourteen_

He loved to watch her sleeping, and to catch her waking up. How she stretched her arms and how she arched her back, her soft, sleepy murmurs of one who wasn't yet ready to wake up. Either wearing his clothes or her sleeping clothes or maybe nothing, he was always completely mesmerized by her. He knew it had been occurring for a long time – probably much before he had even noticed, but he found that he couldn't keep his eyes off her. She had enchanted him, and surprised him, and he had not expected her in his life, and yet… He already couldn't imagine it without her.

He loved her. And as difficult as it was to admit it, it was just as easy to fall into the feeling.

As of now, he had been interrupted from his writing to watch her making them some tea. He was currently sitting by the breakfast bar in the house, and Anna moved around the big kitchen with much grace. It was impossible not to stare. As she filled the kettle with water and turned the stove on, her ponytail bouncing and her hips swaying softly as she walked, the book became the last thing on his mind.

"It's chilly today," he heard Anna say, turning around and waking his from his reverie. She walked past him to close the French windows behind him and he followed her with his eyes. She stopped to admire the view, her back to him. "It's always very pretty around here during winter. With snow. I wonder if we'll get to see it this year."

"We'll get back here after Christmas with your family," John told her quietly. "I'm sure there'll be some snow by then."

She turned back to him with a smile. "I hope so."

She walked over to him, stopping by his side and giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Come on, writer boy," her tone was teasing, "Stop distracting yourself and get to writing. Just a little longer, you can do it."

John chuckled whilst Anna sat beside him reaching for her notebook. "If you stopped walking around, maybe I wouldn't be distracted."

"That's not _my_ fault," she shook her head.

He smiled, watching as she tried to find where exactly she had stopped. "How's your writing going?"

She shrugged. "Well, I suppose. Just retelling some of last night's events. Who knew the window's seat in the bedroom could be so useful?"

She was teasing him, he knew, but he felt his cheeks burn slightly as he remembered precisely what had happened last night.

"I really hope you are not making a detailed description," he said.

"You'll only know when you read it. Which you should, by the way," Anna said, never taking her eyes off the notebook. "I'd like to revisit this in the future. Think about the place where we started. Our first moments."

He smiled. "Right by that door over there, if I remember correctly. For a moment I thought you were going to kill me."

"You know I wouldn't," she looked up at him and let out a deep breath. "I'll really miss this place."

"Hey," he slipped his arm around her shoulders and brought her slightly closer, kissing her hair. "It's not gone yet."

Anna nodded. "I know," she sighed and looked resolutely at him. "You, mister. Don't distract yourself. Get back to writing."

He let out a chuckle and turned back to his laptop's screen. He had a book to finish.

* * *

It was late that night and Anna stood in front of the bathroom's sink, completing the night's ritual as she brushed her hair. Taking a quick look into the bedroom, she found it odd that John hadn't come up yet, probably focused on his book. She hoped he'd get it finished within the next few days, seeing as Christmas was just around the corner. It had taken him a while to get the hang of it today, but after tea he seemed to be completely wrapped around the plot, and she made use of her time by doing the laundry and cleaning some rooms in the house.

It was almost astounding how domestic their whole life had become. And even more astounding to think that they already had a life together… Even if they were a couple for just a little over a month.

Not for the first time, she wondered how their life would be once they went back to London. She supposed they would have to discuss it soon; when they spent a few days there, she had stayed in his place, but then it had only been for a little while and she did have her own place in the city. Maybe they would just go back to their places and see each other occasionally. That was what couples normally did in the beginning.

But her relationship with John hardly had a conventional start, and she found that she wasn't very fond of the idea of not seeing him as constantly.

She was startled when John showed up rather unceremoniously, a huge smile on his face. He spotted her quickly and smiled at him through the mirror, but she had not expected him to take her into his arms and twirl her around.

"What is it?" she giggled as he finally stopped her to kiss her lips.

"The book is finished," he announced rather breathlessly. "We did it, Anna. The book is finished."

"Oh my God!" Anna exclaimed, a bit surprised, even though she had been expecting it. "I want to read it now!"

She made to get away from his embrace, but he didn't let her.

"You can read it in the morning," he kissed her hungrily and it was all too easy to give into the kiss and forget about everything else. He pulled away and Anna whimpered just slightly. "We need to celebrate."

He slipped his arms around her waist and started walking her back to the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him guide her with slow steps as he peppered her neck with kisses.

"Should we see if we have some champagne, then?" Anna said rather breathlessly as the back of her knees hit the bed.

She willingly got into the bed as John slowly pushed her down, her camisole gathering around her hips as he crawled up her body with a wolfish grin on his face. Her heart skipped a bit and she realised she was holding a breath. It was amazing the little things he could do to turn her on.

"I don't want to drink champagne," he captured her lips in a slow, passionate kiss, and he completely stole her breath away when she felt his hands tracing the material of her underwear and he pulled away to kiss her jaw and neck. "I think I'd rather drink something else."

Anna whimpered slightly when she met his eye. She could tell she was in for a good night.

* * *

John rolled over in bed, sleep completely escaping him tonight. He blamed it on the excitement – the thrill of getting the book finished, the first book in over two years, the book that would probably save his career. By his side, Anna snored gently, her arm just over her head, her hair tousled, and she looked thoroughly relaxed. He was glad she was getting a peaceful sleep. He knew that she had been having some difficulty lately and felt tired after a not well-rested night.

He let out a deep breath, his eyes already so used to the dark. The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips as he thought of their small celebration earlier, and he had managed to sleep for a little while afterwards, holding Anna close. It wasn't long until he woke up, however, but at least she remained sleeping. Now, in the early hours of the morning, he had given up on sleep already. He knew he'd probably have a long day ahead of him, but for now he didn't mind.

Slightly frustrated at the lack of sleep, he got up, stealing one last glance from Anna, who shifted to the other side of the bed as he left.

Ten minutes later, he sat in the dimly lit living room, after having drank a glass of milk, and decided to get the final touches on the book. He wrote a simple dedicatory with a smile and, finally, emailed it all to Max directly – perhaps he would be lucky enough to get some feedback by Christmas.

After getting this done, he closed down his laptop and put it on the coffee table, leaning against the back of the comfortable couch. He supposed he could try to get a bit of sleep, but one look through the transparent curtains covering the window told him the sun was rising already, which didn't give him much motivation to sleep. He remembered his son, who had once, in a school homework, to watch the sun rise, and John had been happy – even if tired – to accompany him in his task.

A happy memory. John smiled.

His thoughts stopped as his eyes focused on Anna's notebook on the coffee table. She had been trying to get him to write something there, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He should try it, for her sake, as it seemed to make her feel better, and she had even tried to share some of it with him. Slowly, he reached for the notebook, and opened it carefully in one of her latest entries, seeing pages full of Anna's neat handwriting.

He couldn't keep the smile from his face while he read some of it. Recent memories mingled with old ones as Anna connected places and feelings and he was surprised to read so much of him in one single page. He chuckled at her thoughts and found himself blushing at some of her remarks; she definitely focused on happiness for this. He was glad she did – he knew how she needed it; how much she deserved it.

And in the flash of a moment, he felt the same love she had for this place – happiness and healing so interconnected, a completely new and different start for him that had happened the minute he decided to take up on Max's offer to use the place. Ultimately, it had been this place that had brought him and Anna together, and he couldn't let it go easily.

And suddenly he knew exactly what he needed to do.

* * *

It was well past ten when Anna heard a soft knock on the door, and in her half-asleep state, she buried herself deeper into the covers, too lazy to properly wake up. She couldn't remember having a better night of sleep before, and she was not quite ready to let it go.

"Anna," she heard John's soft voice not far from the bed, "I've brought you some breakfast."

Or perhaps she could let sleep go when reality suddenly seemed so appealing. She was, indeed, hungry. And she doubted she could ever pass the opportunity of getting breakfast in bed from John. Slowly, so slowly, she opened her eyes, adjusting them to the dim clarity of the room. Sitting up in bed rather hastily, she smiled when she saw him smiling down at him with a tray in his hands.

"You really do spoil me," she said, rubbing her eyes tiredly as he placed the tray in front of her. She wasn't sure how many people he thought he'd be feeding, as she eyed the toasts and fruits filling the tray, and was touched to find a single daisy as decoration. "After everything last night, and you still bring me enough to feed an army in the morning."

"Well, I can take it all back, if you want me to," he said in a teasing tone, moving away from her to open the curtains. The sunny day surprised her; they had been having a rather gloomy weather recently. She noticed he was already dressed for the day.

"Have you been awake for long?" Anna asked him softly after taking a sip of the orange juice.

"Hours, actually," John replied, joining her in bed. "Got a lot done while Sleeping Beauty didn't wake up."

She stuck her tongue out playfully, earning a smile from John. She couldn't exactly point it out, but there was something different about him today. He looked a bit tired, perhaps from waking up early, though she couldn't be sure of that. He winked when he stole a grape from the tray before kissing her temple and getting up. He was in a good mood though, it seemed. She watched as he walked around the room and stopped by the French windows, staring outside. He was quite the image, with his hands inside his pockets and his hair slightly tousled. She noticed his feet were bare. She liked his bare feet. He looked very much at home.

"It looks like we won't get snow today," Anna remarked, bringing his attention back to her.

He chuckled. "You know, I never appreciated the summer days I spent here. Before you arrived."

"It's as good as a summer day, I'd think," she said, "except it's cold outside and probably quite empty."

"We could walk around a bit later," he suggested. "I should get a few things from the cottage. Or we could spend some time there. We haven't done that in a while."

"That would be nice," Anna agreed. "I want to read the book's ending too."

"Only if I let you," John teased, walking over to her side of the bed and placing a kiss on her lips. "I should go and make a few calls. About the book."

"Of course," she said, watching as he stole another grape from her tray. "So this is why you kiss me. To steal my grapes."

"A good reason, as you can see," he arched his eyebrows suggestively. Anna giggled.

"I love you," she breathed, the words escaping her lips in the midst of her soft laughter, as if they were so casual, so normal between them. He stopped his chewing for a moment, a split of a second, registering her words; Anna smiled nonchalantly, not wanting to make a big deal of the situation. The words felt casual but so meaningful, and she knew it was because the feeling - and the realisation - weren't new. It was a constant in her life now, and she was very much used to it; she never wanted to let him go.

His response, however, was as casual as her words had seemed.

"I know," he said, giving her a quick peck on her lips again. "And I love you."

She smiled, releasing a breath she hadn't known she had been holding as he slowly walked away, towards the door. She shook her head at herself, then looked up at him when he started talking again.

"You might want to take a look at your notebook," John stated, pointing at the notebook on the desk by the corner. "I took the liberty of writing a little entry. As you have asked me to."

"Oh, did you?" she was surprised. "I'll read it in a bit."

"I'll be downstairs," and with one last wink, he was gone.

It was only minutes later, after eating most of the breakfast John had brought her - she supposed she was hungrier than she initially thought - Anna tied her robe around her waist and stretched her arms; she bit back a yawn and her eyes focused on the notebook in the corner. She was too curious to let it go. Walking over to the desk, adjusting her eyes to the sunlight by the window, she opened the notebook, excited to see what John had written about. She knew from experience he wasn't one with many words, despite being a writer. Her eyes scanned the last page written and she smiled when she found his handwriting. As she had predicted, he hadn't written much.

_Anna,_

_you say I call this place home, but it's only home with you._

_Calm Waters is yours._

_Love, _

_J. Bates_

She blinked at his words, trying to comprehend them. Whatever did he mean by that? When she had asked him to write something in the notebook, she had expected a memory, or maybe just a little note. Instead, he addressed her, and it had left her thoroughly confused. It reminded her of their early days together, when she wasn't sure of anything he meant.

This time, however, she could ask him.

With the notebook in her hands, she walked quickly downstairs, pondering upon the choice of his words. Surely he couldn't mean them literally? Her heart skipped a beat at the possibility. No, it made no sense. She could hear his voice from the living room, and she opened the door in a hurry; he was surprised at her barging in like that, and he stopped whatever he was saying on the phone as he took in the sight of her. It made no sense, did it? How could Calm Waters be hers? She tried to find the right words to ask him as he excused himself from the call and looked at her almost - almost nervously.

Could it really be?

"How... What did you mean?" Anna asked softly, her voice suddenly small. "What does this mean?"

"It means what it means," John offered, walking slowly towards her. "I spoke to your uncle this morning. After all the signatures and transactions, Calm Waters will be yours."

Anna frowned, shaking her head, not quite believing him. "What? But... how?"

"I spoke to your uncle. I'll buy his share of the house," he told her quietly, still a bit nervously. "It'll all be in your name. The house is yours, Anna."

She sucked in a breath, allowing herself to believe this now. He had bought her a house - her dream house, her home. It was hers, and he had done it solely for her. She gasped softly and brought a hand to her mouth, not quite believing he had really done it for her.

Impulsively, she pulled him towards her and raised herself on her tiptoes to kiss him, which took him a moment to properly kiss her back. She was laughing when she pulled away, unable to fight her happiness, tears stinging at the back of her eyes.

"You... You stupid, wonderful man," she shook her head, resting her hands against his chest. A happy tear fell down her cheek. "I can't believe you bought me this house. I just... can't."

John laughed at her enthusiasm, touching her nose with his softly and embracing her.

"It's your happy place, Anna," he whispered. "You deserve it, and it's yours."

She laughed again, too happy to care and all too willing to melt into his kiss, never wanting to let him go.

"Come live with me," she pleaded when he pulled away, looking into his eyes. "It's your home. And it's way too big for just one person."

He pondered at her words, and she was anxious to get a proper answer. When he smiled, her anxiousness was gone immediately. She knew he would accept it.

"I'll be here until you get tired of me and kick me out," John said, interrupting her happy laughter with one more kiss.

The place had brought them together, and now it was theirs.

She couldn't have asked for a better start.


	15. Epilogue

_Epilogue_

John waved happily at Mrs. Abbott as he drove past the Abbott's house; it was a beautiful day and rather hot too. Even though it wasn't quite summer yet, the lake already bustling with activity, especially near the weekends. He knew some locals got upset at the constant arrivals of tourists, but he was anxious to enjoy the summer by the lake. Anna spoke so fondly of it that he was sure he would like it.

He didn't even mind the neighbouring kids playing football on the street as they rushed to the sidewalk to let the car pass. The day was a lot similar to the day he had first got here, when he thought about it. Very sunny. Very hopeful. But much happier, he supposed; when he first came here, he didn't notice such details – they all escaped him. Now – well, he guessed he saw things differently now.

He smiled when he spotted the house in the short distance, there, in the middle of the big trees with its stone walls. Nodding briefly to a neighbour who was now returning from a fishing adventure with a satisfied look on his face, John reached the gates of Calm Waters and let himself in, taking a moment to appreciate the view of the place. The windows seemed to be all open, and he cringed slightly upon thinking Anna had by now woken up and found the state he had left his work in this morning.

As he entered the house, both his hands holding grocery bags and a package, he walked straight upstairs, putting the bags away in the kitchen and knowing exactly where he would find Anna.

Indeed, five minutes later, he found her in the nursery – or in the project of the nursery, as it wasn't ready yet. It had previously been a guest room (one of the many Calm Waters offered) and they had chosen it for being right next to their own bedroom. The walls, which had been in other times a beige neutral tone, were now painted in a light pink to match the room's decoration. John had reasoned it was a room way too big for a baby, and that their daughter would sleep in their bedroom during the first months, but as Anna told him, babies grew. He wasn't sure he was very willing to keep that in mind even before their baby was born, but he reckoned she had been right.

Now, however, there was still a lot to be done. While most of the furniture had been bought and was already in its place, Anna had taken her time trying to find the perfect crib and when she finally did, John insisted he could put it together. He had, after all, been successful in putting together the other furniture of the nursery – except maybe that hidden unknown part of the too-big-for-a-baby wardrobe that had been left when he had thought the wardrobe was completely ready – and he was sure he could deal with a crib as well. There were instructions, and he would follow them.

Except that when he had actually tried, that morning, they were a mess. And he gave up for the moment in order to go run some errands. Unfortunately, he hadn't been quick enough to get home before Anna woke up, as he very well realised when he peeked his head into the room and found her, in the midst of many wood pieces, hanging some letters on the wall.

She turned around when he walked in, a beautiful smile playing on her face. The swell of her six-month pregnancy was visible already, even though she was wearing a loose fitting blouse, and he stopped in his spot for a moment to admire her figure. He knew it was common to hear people saying a pregnant woman was glowing, but Anna was the epitome of that, in his opinion. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders, longer than before, and her smile was brighter than he had ever seen before.

"So my guess is that the crib isn't as easy as the wardrobe?" she asked him teasingly.

"I never said the wardrobe was easy," John defended himself as Anna turned back around to get the last letter of their daughter's name on the wall with the others. The little five letters were made of a soft material and filled with pink polka dots inside. He smiled when the word 'Grace' was finally complete. He put the package he had been holding on the changing table, already set up, and walked over to where Anna was standing. "So how are you two today?"

Anna met his lips in a quick kiss. "Very well. And where have you been?"

"In the village," he replied, running his hands from her expanded stomach to her waist. "I bought that chocolate cake you like."

Anna's eyes lit up immediately. "You really do spoil me," she shook her head. "I won't even think about how you'll be with Gracie."

"Much worse, of course," he winked at her. "You've done a good job here so far."

He admired the stuffed toys on the shelves, matching perfectly with the letters, but his eyes were focused on a frame with two pictures inside; one, of his and Anna's, taken only a few days ago. The other, however, was of Danny as a baby.

"I thought about getting a picture of Grace and replacing ours there, later," Anna's voice was quiet, following his gaze. "So they could be together and she will know her brother as she grows up. I hope you don't mind."

His eyes were filled with unshed tears when he looked at Anna again. He squeezed her waist gently, thinking of how excited Danny would have been at the prospect of a sibling. It was quite confusing, really, to imagine his oldest child with his unborn baby, and yet he could do it, and he could see it as clear as the day. A baby girl who mirrored Anna's beauty playing with her older brother, who made her laugh. Of course, it could never be. His little Gracie would only know her brother from pictures and stories.

And he was glad Anna was willing to help him with that.

"Of course I don't mind," John answered, kissing her forehead. "You surprise me every day."

"Positively, I hope," she said softly.

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Most of the time."

"Hey!" she said, smacking his arm softly. He chuckled.

John wouldn't lie and say the news of Anna's pregnancy hadn't caught him by surprise, because he knew it did, for the two of them. The news had left Anna nervous and him anxious, so soon into their relationship, an obvious result of the one time they hadn't taken any precautions. He hadn't been sure if they were ready for such a huge change in their lives, and he was sure Anna felt the same. He liked to think that it brought them even closer together, as with the unexpected pregnancy new fears emerged and old ones were back to haunting.

But it was one thing to deal with them all alone, and another altogether to deal with them with Anna.

"I stopped by the post office too," he told her. "Guess what was there waiting for me?"

"Your book?" Anna asked hopefully.

"Right there, on the changing table."

He had to laugh at how quickly she let go of him to get the book from the changing table. Quickly getting rid of the package, he leaned against the wall and watched her tracing the cover of the book with her fingers.

"_The Light of the Day_," she read with a proud smile, looking up at him before opening the book. "It's so exciting. Here it is. 'To Anna, the light of my nights and days. Thank you.' I'll never tire of reading this."

"Why did I think you would do just that?" John asked her playfully.

"I need to savour the moment," she smiled sweetly at him, resting her free hand on her belly, "as I'm sure you'll have someone else to dedicate your current book to."

"Am I this predictable?" a playful smile on his lips.

"No. You are just a loving father," Anna stated simply, closing the book and opening it again in the back cover. "Oh, look. They finally changed your description. You now reside in Lake District. Just this."

She looked at him questioningly. John shrugged.

"I felt it unnecessary to add much seeing as it'll change in the next book anyway," he told her. "Hopefully to 'Bates resides in Lake District with his wife and daughter.'"

He didn't want to pressure her, as he had never done so in the past, but while it was fact that he would be a father again in a few months, Anna was still reluctant to officially become his wife. He supposed it was because of the stigma the word fiancé had caused within her that she was so hesitating. Still, every now and then, he liked to mention it. To him, it felt like the next step, a step they should have taken months ago. For the first time since his relationship with Anna started, he wanted to do things conventionally, even if it involved getting married shortly before the birth of their daughter. He knew she would tell him when she was ready.

Anna was silent at his remark, closing the book again. It would be released publicly next week, in London, but so far it seemed to be a success. Different from his usual writing, the book spoke of minds and people, not of crimes and puzzles, what he usually went for; in his book, his main characters didn't all get a happy ending, but he ended it with a promise of happiness – the same he had felt at the time of writing its ending.

With a sigh, Anna looked up at him.

"All right," she said tentatively, "Ask me again."

She caught him by surprise, but he was quick to recompose himself and walked towards her. Taking both her hands in his, he thought about how this wasn't the best way to do it – in the middle of their baby's nursery, with pieces of a crib scattered all over the floor. But then they had never done things like any other would have.

"Will you marry me?"

She stared at their hands, and he could see tears in her eyes. He reminded himself she had said yes to another proposal once before too, and the outcome had been completely unexpected. He squeezed her hands, and she nodded.

"Yes," she answered a little breathlessly, "But no engagement, and no wedding. Just… Just us."

"You're in charge, future Mrs. Bates."

She let out a laugh and he interrupted her by meeting her lips in a slow kiss, trying to assure her as best as he could; it was a new step to both of them.

He was sure they could handle it.


End file.
